


A Hero's Journey

by d4_Ghostwriter



Category: Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Development, Coming of Age, Conflict, Dramatic Irony, Existential Crisis, F/M, Friendship, Frustration, Growth, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Interaction, Introspection, Metafiction, Multi, Mystery, Philosophy, Power Dynamics, Romance, Slow Burn, spirituality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 102,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d4_Ghostwriter/pseuds/d4_Ghostwriter
Summary: What do you do when you're the worst at what you do, but have no desire to do anything else? Do you buckle under the pressure, or fight the impossible fight?Little Mac doesn't want to return to boxing, having already defeated the toughest opponents on his Earth, as well as having a past he doesn't want to look back on either, allowing only one option - fighting in the multiverse's greatest and most complex championship, for both ego and accomplishment.Life isn't just about topping the summit, though; it's about every hill climbed and every valley crossed. Mac's coming-of-age happens in time, as he grows, conquers fears and forms incredible, stellar memories together with the very people who he would lay down his life for.But the greatest of adversaries, both internal and external, present themselves to him, forcing Mac to reconsider everything, adapt and improve, to be one step ahead of the deadly competition - especially if and when it threatens him or his people... and a failure, no matter how small, on his part - will carry irreversible consequences.A fight between the fire of life - and the existential, inevitable wind that threatens to snuff it out without hesitation.A Hero's Journey.
Comments: 44
Kudos: 34





	1. Rock Bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Losing a hard-fought battle is not as hard as being unable to fathom why you lost.

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 1: Rock Bottom**

  
  


_ [ - Little Mac - ] _

**_( - Battle! (Elite Four) / Battle! (Solgaleo/Lunaala) | Super Smash Bros. Ultimate - )_ **

  
  


**I was down three stocks to one.** Wolf looked tired but I felt downright  _ exhausted _ .

I stood at the edge of the platform, panting.

The anthropomorphic wolf about ten metres from me swiftly approached.

Objects swam randomly in my sight. The crowd screamed their cold cheers and celebrations from all sides.

Even the ones on my end sounded neither familiar nor friendly, most of them sounding like “Finish him off!” or “C’mon, get us a three-stock!”

A bead of sweat trickled down my temple, and my chest pounded.

I heard it more than I felt it.

I clenched my jaw tightly. Now maybe four metres, the sound of Wolf’s aggressive snarl barely reached my ears as the noise and volume of the fanfare muffled it down to a low growl.

He sped up, his image growing bigger by the second.

I stuck up my left arm, getting into a counterattack stance, preparing myself for his infamously long-ranged sliding, dashing kick the fanboys had nicknamed the Flying Foot.

I was going to punish him hard for underestimating me this late into the match.

Wolf began to slide; as I focussed on him, the colourful platforms all around us, his grin grew as he halted his momentum, well short of my position.

He feigned his kick to the right, and when I moved to knock him off balance and hit him with an uppercut, the wolf-man spun around with the grace of a dancer.

He grabbed my right forearm.

I shouted. The feeling of sweat against the animal’s rough and coarse fur was uncomfortable, but more than that, intimidating for what he was going to do next.

Wolf’s arm drew low and back, before swishing the air with a clean slash. A nasty snarl sounded. There was a cruel flash of red hot pain in my chest.

That was the last thing I saw for seconds.

I saw the three platforms, two on the base and the third at the crest, drop from beneath me, like I was floating, and then I was. I was floating, and then, there was the rush of beginning to descend, then  _ fall _ , to the ground.

My heart twisted itself into a confused knot and ate itself in a quick panic. I was falling down… but I was facing up. The chaotic sky, normally so relaxing with all its glorious palette of colour, had turned into a nightmarish abomination of disconcerting paint like that of a fever dream. It bit and gnawed at my insides, the nervousness of not knowing when the next strike was going to land.

I needed to look down, to see what I was facing, what I was up against.

I heard the crowd scream ‘Awooh!’

I flipped myself on my back barely in time to feel, to feel a numbing  _ gash _ of electricity in my chest.

Faster than the strike, a hard, hard surface smacked my back, knocking all the wind out of my breath.

My eyes felt stuck together. I couldn’t breathe for a second.

My back seized up erratically, but my arms, my arms were at least doing okay. I pushed off the ground, getting ready for Wolf’s next move.

From across the stage, on the opposite platform, he sneered and fired the Blaster twice.

Too quickly.

I watched the white ball of light, surrounded by a distinct violet glow, hurtle towards me without a way of properly blocking it.

My feet rooted themselves in the ground, paralyzed in an anxious pain. In that moment right before it hit, I knew I was going down.

It was the sudden force I experienced that made me convulse violently. At least, that’s what it could have felt like. All the muscles in my upper body spasmed at once.

The pain, it was, it was critical and controlling like a vice grip, like how a massive car of hardened steel and solid carbon is crushed, ripped and torn apart by a compactor.

It seared.

A drip of fluid trickled down my arm.

I couldn’t tell whether it was blood or sweat.

Then, there were the red and green spots, the red and green spots that indiscriminately dotted my vision without respite. Their bounds weren’t clear, and they merged in and out of each other often, and I could barely,  _ barely _ make out the figure of my adversary, that damn Wolf, but then the next purple slash flashed.

Violent violet claws appeared near my face as I dazedly looked on, and then they were slashing my abdomen, chest, and gut.

Rapid. Numbingly painful. Injuries so cold that they feel hot. Dashes and commas of blood punctuated each strike.

I must’ve yelled. The vicious assault finished with a strike in the solar plexus.

The sudden energy torched.

My liver, it swelled, and I wanted to cry. All the wind was knocked out of me. Muscles that were compacted  _ stayed there _ .

I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe, but then I  _ could _ , and I was falling. Away and up.

The platform was getting farther and farther away, and the crowd grew louder as I was approaching them; they were screaming my eardrums out.

Time was slowing down.

The platform was there and rising by the second. My brain baulked but my face made no reaction.

I felt my body jump as I commanded it to; the platform dipped in comparison but was still at least five metres away if not more horizontally. Hope drained from me like blood. It would be impossible to reach, even with the Jolt Haymaker.

It was well and truly over.

We were, for a brief second, eye-to-eye again. The tiny maroon pupils of his eyes emanated sheer, true,  _ pure  _ power, distilled and refined to express dominance.

Wolf’s smirking mug stared right back at me. He extracted his own war machine, once more, from his pocket, aimed it and promptly fired it at me.

He and I both knew I wasn’t making it back regardless, though the raging crowd was all but privy to it. They had no idea. They were, without a doubt, oblivious to it.

It had been a  _ massacre _ .

The cruel mauve blast connected with my face. An ancient pain controlled my skull, like a vicious, chronic migraine. I felt a bone break in my face. Fluid gushed into my sight. Out of my second eye, whichever it was, I couldn’t see anything but Wolf gazing down at me and the structural spikes of  _ Final Destination _ . An unforgivable arrogance poisoned his face.

I was spinning uncontrollably. I looked down. The feeling in my stomach was tumultuous and tough, dark and dreading.

I stared down at the fuzzy night of the blast zone, and let go.

I gave up.

The blast zone took me in a brilliant beam of light.

  
  
  


• • • • •

**_( - Twinleaf Town Daytime | Pokémon Diamond and Pearl - )_ **

  
  


The accelerated healing kicking in helped me physically heal, but alas, that wasn’t the only thing that was hurt.

I clenched my jaw hard. A shockwave of pain rippled through my temple like I imagined a monstrous, ten metre tall Japanese tsunami would rip through one of its coastal cities. I grimaced and my hand drifted to the side of my head, subconsciously. The fiber of the bandage felt fine to the touch, and I had no intention to prod any deeper than that. It was far too sensitive still, especially that close to my eye. Dr. Mario had said I had broken my orbital bone and would be out of commission for at least another day.

I looked around the hospital room I was in. Well-lit, air-conditioned, and with exemplary medical facilities. Every fighter, no matter how strong and resilient, depended on these after each battle. The bed under my back was firm yet soft to the touch.  _ What even was that battle? I don’t reckon I landed more than four or five hits the entire match…  _ I gazed absently at the glowing purple crate lying in the corner, one of the eight of them in the room. Four were at the base of the bed, the other four attached to the ceiling, forming one of the infamous and mysterious ‘healing cuboids’ that the hospital was known for amongst the community.  _ He wasn’t even that fast, or that strong. I must’ve made a few mistakes, but that wouldn’t have caused a… three-stock, would it have? _ I channeled my gaze. My one good eye stared intensely at the ground. I tried to find a reason, pull it out of my ass, to explain to myself, why, why I had lost so poorly in a matchup that wasn’t, shouldn’t have been a complete massacre, but I blanked for seconds. 

Nothing.

The numbers, the goddamn numbers rolled in my head.

Over the course of the last three matches, I had only won six points total. A stock was worth three points; winning the match would earn you another two bonus points, while three-stocking an opponent would earn you an additional two and a half bonus points. 

So far, the average was twenty and a half points.

The statistics kept coming to me as I scrolled through my phone, the halved vision not helping at all. 106th out of 128.

In other words, in the bottom twenty percent.

Not even below average, this was way past that. Far too gone. I wasn’t even pitted against any of the big names expected to get high placings in the last fights, outside of perhaps Wolf.  _ Doesn’t help that the guy hadn’t been here for the last, what, seven years? The crowd was really going  _ nuts _ for his return.  _

_ Why does that matter, though? They’re never going to cheer for me. I’m going to need to pick this up irrespective of who those idiots are cheering for, and show them that they’re wrong _ . I was going to have to, or I would be out of the  _ Ultimate _ tour. The cut-off was the eighty-fifth spot - the top two-thirds of the competitors; a whole twenty places above where I was now. The cracked phone at my bedside buzzed gently with notifications of the fights that had occurred today; bright white light shone up on my face in the dusky gloom.  _ eighty-fifth… Incineroar, with thirteen points. Say his next matches go similarly - he’d be at twenty points at the final round. I’d likely have to make at least fourteen, if not more, points in my next few matches to make it _ .

I groaned inwardly, my throat aching on one side, adding to the feeling of imbalance in my body. Closing my eyes, and turning my vision to black, I recalled the first fight, the only match so far that hadn’t been absolute dogpoo.

It had been against Pit. “Good luck, Mac. You’re gonna need it.” I had smirked at him, as he did for me; we’d been fairly close friends since being low ranked during the last tour. Good times, in a way. We were going to give it our best effort regardless - we’d promised each other that much beforehand.

Pit had a fairly offensive playstyle; but, he simply didn’t have the speed to commit to rushing me down, I knew that much, so although I myself wouldn’t be taking that much damage, I had to be careful to not go for anything risky that he might block and punish. I approached as he grabbed his bow, nocking a bluish-white arrow to it. As I neared him, his right eye closed, his left in a tight squint, and he fired it. 

Jumping over it was my first mistake.

As I jumped, he matched, and with a grunt and surprising range slashed at my arm, twirling the bow-sword, as it spun with relative ease. Some hits landed square in my chest, others along my forearm, the pain making me cringe. His assault continued, and as I tried to raise my arms to block, it only got worse; his jumps were getting shorter and shorter to the ground, so he could easily time each overhead strike.

“Hyah!”

Every single god-damn time, Pit yelled that.

I could still hear it as I closed my eyes, and I could still feel that red hot boiling burn of frustration of getting hit so many times in a row and feeling helpless between each one, even if and in a way,  _ especially because _ the person on the other end was my well-intentioned friend.

I’d barely dodged one of the strikes as I flew farther and farther away with each successive aerial hit. Pit kept going one move too long. I’d grabbed his arm and flung him backwards.

“A-ha!” His screams had been pretty comical.

I couldn’t let it distract me, however, because this was an opening I had been wanting to punish. I wound up for an upward-angled punch in his gut, enough to launch him a considerable distance.  _ “The Jolt Haymaker, Mac!” _ I smiled wistfully, remembering the moment in the middle of the fight with the crowd all around us that I recalled Doc Louis’ words, coaching me to use my signature special strike. Connecting Pit’s chest with my fist, lit in blue fire, was the most satisfying thing in that match.

I ended up taking the stock with that side-special move, but after that the battle was memorable for the wrong reasons. He edge-guarded me twice successfully, evoking cries from the crowd. He apologised after each one, and even though I told him there was no need to, inside, I was angry. Furious. My skin heated up just at the thought. I forced a grim smile.

“ _ You ain’t no air fighter, Mac.” _ With a smile, I shook my head again, pain shooting up my neck muscles.

“Urgh.”

“Hey man, how are ya?” A winged angel strode into the room.  _ Speak of the devil. Heh. _

Even though I’d seen him a couple times in the  _ Ultimate _ tour recently already, it didn’t cease to amaze me how tall he’d gotten in the last three or so years. Now, Pit was about five foot nine and, well,  _ looked _ sixteen, what with the passing of time in different universes and how angels may or may not age. He had handsome, proportional features, and had grown slightly out of his child’s body in  _ Tournament 4 _ .

But, in spite of growing up physically, he didn’t lose his perpetual childlike optimism and happiness; along with his overconfident and boundary-crossing social interactions with others, his low-tier status and his unbridled joyfulness made him more or less unpopular amongst the crowd in  _ Tournament 4 _ . Bluntly put, Pit also wasn’t… really the brightest.

Nevertheless, it was energizing to be around him; plus, it always helped getting the perspective of a fighter who specialised in aerial attacks if you  _ yourself _ weren’t an expert in the area. His infectious personality rubbed off wrong on a lot of others, but personally, it helped me enjoy battles more, especially when I lost. That was often.

Very often.

I had a strong feeling that that wouldn’t be changing anytime soon.

“Pit, I’m pretty banged up.” Pit turned the corner. I didn’t need a mirror to know that he’d just seen my condition. I wasn’t in an amazing state.

“Uh, what... what even happened, there, dude?” I told him all about losing the Round Three match against Wolf, his lethal Blaster, the final edgeguard and forfeiting yet another win.

“Even though we’ve got the accelerated healing and stuff going on, it’s hurt a nerve near my eye, bro. I’m gonna be out of here pretty soon, but that’s probably why you haven’t heard from me in so long.” Pit made a weird face, as if to say  _ Yeesh _ .

“Hrm, that seems bad.”  _ You don’t say. _ “Well, what’re ya on right now? Surely you got at least one stock on the guy, right?”

His pronunciation slowed towards the end of the sentence, and as he realised I didn’t respond, he put the pieces together. I could hear the gears churning, and his smile dropped from his face.

“Ah. Sorry dude.”  _ This guy… _

“Pit, it’s no problem; it was  _ my _ fault that I’d screwed up the battle so badly.”

That sentence was braver and more confident than I personally felt.

“Yeah… well, ya probably didn’t know this, dude, but the others did come to visit ya yesterday when ya came in, but ya didn’t wake up.”

“Shit, how long’s- how long  _ has _ it been, Pit?” His comical expression of being supposedly ‘deep in thought’ never ceased to amuse me.

“Think your fight was Wednesday, and today is Saturday.”  _ Crap. That gives me less than a week to prepare for Round Four… _

“Anyways, I’m sure me and-” he gulped, “Lady Palutena-” I smirked, hoping he wouldn’t see it from inside my literally mummified face, “-can help take a look at some of your replayed runs and check out what you’re doing wrong.”  _ Once I get out of this place… _

“Mmh - well, ‘nuff about me. How’d your battle go, Pit?” His embarrassment from a second ago quickly morphed into a bright grin that shone, and touched me just a little. He nodded confidently.

"I didn’t win, but I managed to get two stocks off that weird, mysterious guy. The one in the black cloak that wears that white, uh, mask-thingy. What’s-is-name? ...Ren, or somethin’?” I looked at him.

“Pretty sure he goes by ‘Joker’.”

Pit waved his hand. “Pshah; anyway, I think I’m on, uh... seventeen points? I dunno, dude, I’m not the best at math.”

I agreed with him. “Hey, regardless, that’s solid, bro. You ought to be proud of yourself. You’re gonna make sure they’ll forget everything about your D-tier status this tour at this rate.”

At that, he grinned broadly. “Actually, uh… ya reckon I’m safe?”

“Yeah.” I nodded.

In all honesty, it was a slightly begrudging nod. I was happy for Pit, that he was safe and all, but it was a bitter sort of happiness. If he could score any decent hits in the next two rounds, he would be in. I was far from that. For me, in the following fights, I was gonna have to pull something crazy out of my ass to even barely make it into  _ Ultimate _ . 

I didn’t think that was going to happen.

Eighty-fifth right now had more than double the number of points I had, and that lead was likely bound to grow. I buried my head in my hands. The math didn’t matter - I was just going to have to win both battles, I knew that much just by the  _ feel _ , and the  _ shape _ of the numbers.

“...Mac?” I had zoned out.

“Ya good, dude?” 

I turned to a confused, and concerned-looking Pit.

“Yeah.”  _ No. _

“The gang, we’re heading to Centiskorch’s Café tomorrow night at seven-thirty, ya feel like joining us?”

“...Mmh. Sure.”

“It’ll be good to see the rest of the crew again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If that was a slow start, please don't hesitate to let me know! I'll be happy to improve on anything you guys say, and if you liked it, please don't forget to leave a Kudos, because that lets me know that this stuff is being read; that would mean the world to me, and honestly make this story feel all the more real. Thanks all!
> 
> We now have an instagram @d4_ghostwriter! Follow it for updates on when new chapters are coming out!


	2. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the ever-empty world of a thousand strangers, family allays the stresses of the soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, this chapter is a little longer than the first. I've made some edits to the first chapter a couple days later than it was first published (I believe around 17th July) so if you have time check it out if you want!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> EDIT 18/8/20, or 18th August 2020: Hey all, d4 ghostwriter here! If you are reading after 18th August 2020, feel free to ignore this message - otherwise, you may have noticed there are 5 chapters now; the old CH1 is now split into Volume 1 and 2; the old CH2 is now split into Volume 3 and 4. Volume 5 is completely new. No significant plot events occur differently, but more detail, structuration and the like have been implemented, so feel free to skip or reread - it’s completely up to you. I’m sorry about this, this is the last time I’ll do a drastic rework like this but yeah I thought it was necessary. Enjoy!

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 2: Homecoming**

_[ - Little Mac - **]** _

_ So much for being early _ . The ‘cafe’, though more of a restaurant, was already close to full. The movement of the panicked looking waiters and waitresses juggling plates and cutlery slowed my walk through the restaurant. The heat filled the air; looking around the place, diners, human or not, were all sweating, some more than others.

It was uncomfortable in my hood, like little hot sparks going off on my skin. I walked further and further, scanning the multiple booths around wooden tables, with thick red padding to back the seats, yet they all looked like regular human fans of the sport; they couldn’t be found.

The food on the tables was tantalising. It was a pretty explosion of colour, red and brown especially, meats cooked and stuffed with fragrant herbs, rich stews in pots cooking over an old-style wooden fire burning underneath it at one of them, the group of five or six teenagers at that table happily munching away. A sweaty diner to my left shouted something, though it could barely be heard over the commotion of the broiling food, the rapid, jargonised talk of the waiters, and the conversation at the booths. Spicy smelling peppers, aromatic yet sharp, wafted in the air, adding to the intense but welcome tang of the air.

My phone buzzed.  _ “PIT: Take a seat to your right; we’ll be there.” _ In that direction, I saw that there was a group of three. A black haired woman wearing a strapless white dress smiling beckoned me over to her.

_ Damn. She’s gorgeous. _

I raised an eyebrow. At the table, there was a man with a strong jawline, who perhaps was her husband, accompanied by a younger teenage boy that looked to be her son, wearing a white tee and short shorts.

_ Okay, if she’s a married mom… maybe, not? _

Then, there was another boy, with dark hair, who had strangely robotic, mechanical movements in eating, as though the motions were unknown to him. Lastly, there was a blue dog sitting in the corner seat, his tongue hanging out as a stupid grin was plastered on his face.

_ Who brings a dog to a restaurant like this? _

_ And more importantly, why is it blue? _

“Take a seat, Mac.”

I froze. How the hell did she know my name?

“Just… sit.” She smiled serenely, which was… strangely, calming. I felt compelled to join them, if only temporarily. Her gentle voice- sounded familiar, and though I was confused, Pit did tell me they would be her.

_ Aight, I’ll just sit down with them first, and I’ll call Pit in ten if he doesn’t show. _

As soon as I sat down at the table, the woman and robot-boy sitting opposite me disintegrated, as did the boy I thought was her son sitting next to me.  _ W-what? _ I blinked a couple times. The woman’s dark hair turned to green, her eyes changing from walnut brown to green, her facial structure and shape morphing, though still remaining somewhat similar. 

“Recognize me now, Mac?” I grinned.

“Palu, good to see you!” The boy with the white t-shirt sprouted wings and complained loudly.

“What about me, dude?” I elbowed him in the side, grinning all the while, as he cried out in mock agony.

“Sorry I had to pull that… disguise on us once again, as I thought you’d be familiar with it by now after  _ Tournament 4 _ , where we’d constantly get mobbed for autographs at meals and such.”

I chuckled. “Palu, it’s been years! I hardly remembered the fact that we used disguises in public, especially seeing as you used a different disguise from the previous times today…”

In the meantime, the robotic looking ‘boy’ opposite us began to change, the gray tee that he wore fusing into his shoulder, his dull-coloured skin turning silverish, his hands turning to little forks that rotated in their joints. His head was the last to form, his monotone-looking features flattening into two curious looking, circular eyes. R.O.B. cocked his head and released a high-pitched beep, waving at me with that little fork hand of his. 

"Hey, bud!” The gray robot closed his ‘fist’ and bumped it against my own.  _ I forgot how difficult it was to talk to him, damn.  _ “It’s good to see you again!” The red LED on top of his head circled and blinked as he nodded, and although he had no mouth, I reckon he smiled.

The handsome looking man across the table, seated next to R.O.B., sprouted his iconic red helmet, complete with the golden eagle insignia on the forehead, complete with the black sunglasses he was well known for.

“Cap’n, what’s up!” I reached across the table to shake Douglas’ hand.

“Mac! Good to see ye.” His assertive grip grasped mine firmly, before he yanked me halfway across the table, out of my seat. "DAMN, man!” I almost dipped my hand into Pit’s soup, as he shouted out of fright.

“Just tryna keep you on your toes, hah.” I rolled my eyes.

Last of all, in the booth seat, the ‘dog’ from before had since morphed into a hedgehog, maintaining the blue hues on his skin. “Howdy,  _ Little _ Mac! It’s been a long time, bro!” The shit-eating grin of Sonic’s made it abundantly clear he was enjoying it. I didn’t even bother to remind him that I didn’t go by that anymore, because that annoying POS I knew for a  _ fact _ would never listen.

Regardless, it was a joy to see him again.

“Hey, Sonic! Or should I say,  _ Maurice _ \- and you’re right, years. Good to see you’re still as cocky as you were back then.” The injection of mock venom I put into it just fuelled Sonic’s fire, marked by the upwards tilt of the right corner of his lip.

“Oh, you’re on.” He bit into the chili dog, all the while staring aggressively into my eyes with a fake intensity that I knew he could truly show out on the battlefield.

“Ooh, ooh, staring contest, staring contest!” Pit cried out, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him looking straight at me. Palu began chanting, seemingly not caring for the multiple stares we were getting from the neighbouring tables. R.O.B. tilted his head curiously, but as Palu whispered something into his aural port, he nodded in recognition, his dark beady eyes narrowing. The Falcon laughed, and began to rapidly but gently punch Sonic in the stomach, while he absently tried to bat the racer’s obstructing hands, still maintaining eye contact. Dryness began to set in.

“How long can you go, Mac?” In the past, the energetic, enthusiastic childishness of the hedgehog never failed to entertain any of us.

“I’m not quite done yet, hedgehog.” Water began forming at the upper and lower eyelids. In the meantime, the white of Sonic’s eyes began to turn red. He was starting to struggle, I could tell.  _ Just like all those years ago… some things never change.  _ As Pit kept up his commentating, whether with a “ooh he’s getting close” or “is that a blink I see, Mac!?” the tension of the battle grew. It was no longer who was gonna win, but who had the bigger  _ balls _ .

I began to tear up, and I had to put up  _ physical resistance _ to stop myself from blinking. Sonic’s eyelids trembled.

“Dammit, Mac, don’t make me do this!”

“I would never, Maurice.”  _ Aack. _ Out of my periphery, I saw R.O.B. close his eyes with a snapping sound, taking a photo of the moment. That was all it took. When my vision adjusted too quickly back to normal, I snapped.

“Heh. You owe me a chilli dog, L’il.” I shook my head.  _ Damnit. _

“Aight, Mr. Debt Collector, let me actually order my food first. I’ve been here like five minutes already just doing this with you.”

I couldn’t help but grin. It’d been a very,  _ very _ long time. Pit let out a laugh, before sliding a menu my way.

“How  _ have _ you been doing, Sonic?” I absently asked, flipping through the many pages of inter-dimensional cuisine, most of it looking fantastic, while others looked fantastically exotic to the point of seeming pretty much inedible.

“Battle-wise, I’ve all been doing pretty okay!” _I meant with Amy, but whatever._ _Oh well, at least he’s happy about it._ Sonic then proceeded to ramble on about how he pulled off this fancy ol' ledge-trap by using his spring jump right at the edge of the stage; effectively finishing Cloud, the blonde-haired soldier, from above. Palu mused that it was quite an amusing scene, the lighthearted and frivolous hedgehog winning against the serious and stoic soldier.

“Oh yeah, guess what Mac?” Pit interrupted, to a rather hurt-looking Sonic. “Lady Palutena is fully safe and in  _ Ultimate _ !” Palu smiled humbly and accepted the cheers from around the table, R.O.B. included, the gentle tap of his metal fork-hands signifying applause.

“Thanks, everyone. Anyways, Mac, you’ve chosen your meal?”  _ Good diversion, Palu. _

“Arright, yeah. I’ll just get the carbonara, hopefully it’ll remind me of home.” I called over the Sizzlipede waiter to my side, who cheerily took the order.

“So Italian,” Palu laughed.

“You can’t blame my heritage on me, jeez.” I shrugged it off to Pit’s amusement.

The banter continued throughout the meal, and even through mouthfuls of that creamy stuff, I felt more and more detached.  _ I might not get to see them for very long… if I don’t qualify for Ultimate, I’m gone and out of here. _

The thought of it made me retch just a little bit.  _ Back to the Bronx, I guess. _

Yet at the same time, I was happy as hell. I was with (most of) the guys (and gals). Captain Falcon, Palu and R.O.B. opposite, and Sonic and Pit to my right, my best buds in the entire multiverse. I scoffed to myself lightly.  _ What a predicament I’m in, hey? _

Sonic’s voice burst through suddenly. “ _ Little _ Mac! You coming to R.O.B.’s match tomorrow? It’s the last one in Round Three!” Pit looked at me with glee in his eyes, closing his hands together and begging me. I shrugged.

"Sure, why not?” R.O.B. clapped his hands happily, letting out a beep.

“Great; it’s settled! Eight p.m. tomorrow night! Don’t be late; I’ve gotta dash!” Somehow, despite being in the corner seat, Sonic dashed off and out of the restaurant.  _ How weird is that gonna look to everyone else in the restaurant? That’s legit a blue dog suddenly disappearing into thin air. Jesus. _

_ Someone’s gonna get schizophrenia from that. _

Palu grimly smacked her fist on the table. “Damn, he left without paying his share of the food  _ again  _ \- he ate the most too!”

I grinned. “I heard where he comes from, if he’s killed, gold coins start to pop outta his ass. Whaddya say we  _ get _ him to come up with his part of the bill?”

The green-haired goddess opposite failed to conceal her laughter. “Mac - that’s so… dark!” She mock-chided. The Falcon chortled heartily.

“‘Twas all in jest. Let’s head off, I’m done with this.” I stood up. They all followed, while Palu offered to pay for the meal, not bothering with the math, as having won the most matches of all of us, she had the most on hand. As she flickered through the wad of cash, Palu’s phone buzzed; as she picked it up, her eyes lit up.

“Oh- yeah, I can’t believe I didn’t mention this to you earlier, Mac, but Jane couldn’t make it today; she isn’t feeling great.”

“Mmh. Gotcha, tell her I said get to get better soon!” She absently typed out something, as we stood waiting at the counter, with a Pignite waiter repeating the contents of our orders.

Palu simply said “you all owe me one,” with a smile.

_ Damn, she looks really, really  _ nice _ when she does that. _ I caught myself and shrugged it off with the shake of my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pit give me an inquisitive expression.  _ Ah, damn. _

_ Whatever. _

Grabbing the receipt, she shook me out of it. “C’mon, let’s go!”

The instant return of the breeze was pleasant, especially compared to the hot insides of the Fire-type-run restaurant. But… it was a _ tad _ bit intense. I zipped up the pink hoodie, as the previously purple night sky turned to a rich midnight blue. The view out on the square was pleasant, the red brick of some training buildings, alternative food establishments, tourist shops and the like in front. The ‘attractions’ on either side of us were just the sides of the cliff, with waist-high barriers to the right and left, allowing you to really take in the night sky. The deep colour of the sea and the sky mingled together till their boundaries were no longer fixed. Flashes of light reflected off the waves intermittently.

Pit yawned behind me, as we walked to the left, approaching the cliffside, in front of which were stairs to the main street. “Isn’t this pretty, Lady Palutena?” R.O.B. beeped an agreement.

She laughed. “It’s lovely, Pit. It’s good that we have a chance to enjoy this all together.” She put an arm around Pit, and another around me.  _ God damn, the height difference between us is a lot smaller now. _

I put my right around her shoulder, inadvertently rubbing against Pit -  _ uh-oh, that’s pretty gay _ \- and my left around the silver bot too, not wanting him to feel left out, as the Falcon got around the other side.

Our pace slowed to a stroll down the stairs.

“I feel like a walk around the park!” Palu exclaimed.

“Yeah sure, I’m down.” I nodded.

Pit yawned again. “I’ll take a rain check today, Lady Palutena. I’m sure ya’ll be well-protected with Mac around!” To that, R.O.B. ‘spoke’.

“Yeah, bud, you do got a match tomorrow; rest up and recharge early, y’hear! I wanna see you win!” I fist bumped him, as he nodded in understanding; and was that perhaps a hint of a smile coming to his eyes?

I felt it, anyways.

Captain Falcon put on his best ‘chaperone voice’. “I’ll go with these delinquents t’ make sure ‘ey don’t cause any trouble in the streets of Smashville, hey?”

Palu laughed. “You guys get home safe now, yeah?” She always had the hint of a motherly tone with R.O.B. and Pit.

“We will, don’tcha worry! Let’s go, R.O.B.!” Down the stairs, they took the right down the well-lit street, Pit giving one last wave to his goddess as he disappeared, the sounds of his robotic companion booping fading into the night. The Captain said something to Pit, making him erupt in an energetic laughter, while R.O.B. simply looked at him and cocked his head. I glanced at Palu just as she did, with a somewhat wistful smile on her face.

“Damn, I never thought I would see the day he wouldn’t walk you to the doorstep.” She threw a sideways glance at me. “Yeah. He’s grown up a lot, hey?”

_ In some ways more than others… _ “Mmh.”

The light of the street lamp brightened the atmosphere in the quiet, dark pathway, little cold particles of dust and cold gas flying around in the air.

“You seemed to have something on your mind at dinner.” Palu kept walking along on the park path, her eyes avoiding mine, the sandals she wore the only sound accompanying our stroll. Not a single soul in sight or in mind.

I sighed. “Not really, just thinking about, stuff.”  _ Bad acting. _ She scoffed, though not unkindly.

“That’s just what I was talking about.” Her bemused expression turned to one more serious yet open. “Remember - we’ve been friends for years, Mac, I can tell when something’s up. Please?” She stopped the walk in the middle of the park, pausing right in front of me. It was confrontational, but not in any negative sense.

_ She never lets these things go, and I guess I would need to let it out sometime… But honestly, I would rather her than Pit or Sonic about this, and to be truthful, I’d never be able to talk to Sonic about anything serious.  _

“Before I talk, I want you to not talk to Pit or the others about this; especially not him, I mean, he seems so happy and everything nowadays, and I don’t want to ruin that for him, yeh?” She nodded, the calm, gentle look still on her face. “I’m not ready to tell him yet either, so… yeah.” I leaned my elbow against the side of the park light, its faint whitish glow illuminating the area around us. A single cricket chirped in the night, his little voice projecting itself amongst the stars.

“Not a soul,” she motioned, drawing a line across her thinned lips.

I started talking, and it more-or-less just came out. I told her about the feelings of embarrassment, humiliation, and the one-sided crowd support I felt in the match against Wolf, my horrendous point score, the miracles I would likely have to pull off to even stay in Smashville for more than the next two weeks. I spoke about the joy I felt with the gang all again,  _ even Sonic _ , and how it might just be ripped away from me as soon as I felt it, like the proverbial carrot on the stick that you never really achieve, and how I wanted so badly to be here, more than anything else, and the inadequacy, the powerlessness I felt being unable to do anything, to anyone in my matches, despite there only being three right now, especially after coming back after so long.

Not the depression of living in my own home though.

Not the emptiness I felt just…  _ boxing _ , now.

Not that yet.

“Yeah. That’s my piece, I guess.” I dully clenched my teeth, my eyes perhaps just a little moist, not that I’d ever show that to her.

“Wow… you have been carrying a lot of baggage, Mac.” I rubbed my eye, feigning tiredness, while nodding.

“I don’t know what I can do about this, to be honest, and, I think,  _ frankly _ I’m-I’m gonna have trouble sleeping,” I smiled. “Insomnia time, wooh!” The sardonic, no-effort attempt at humor stopped short at her serious face.

She looked me straight in the eyes, her mouth set solidly in a straight line.

“Mac… I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you alive in this tournament.” I followed her gaze. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll go through at all three of your previous matches and see what you could’ve done better in each, and what your weaknesses are, and how to mitigate them,” she broke her gaze, waving a hand, “-regardless, we’ll find a way. We always do.”

I looked down, staring at the intricacies of the slate and stone blues of gravel on the path.

“Please - look at me, Mac.” My head jerked up.

I stared at those glowing emeralds of eyes she had.

“I just want your absolute trust - I won’t let you down. We’ll get you in. It’s only two more rounds, but I know we’ll do it. I know Pit, R.O.B. and Sonic will help too - we’ll do whatever we can in our power to keep you here. We all want you here. You have my word.”

I felt warmth. Comfort of a sort, a faith that all was going to be fine. “Palu… thanks. It means a lot, and I’ll… do my best. Yeah.” I flashed her a cheeky grin to fill the silence. “I’ll be aight.”

I did my best not to think at all, to block out any thoughts coming into my head, because I knew for a fact that they were all going to be negative and doubtful, and maybe if it was too much it would break through the façade of it all, and she could never ever see that from me.

Not now, not ever.

The goddess smiled.

“You look tired - let’s head back.” I nodded in agreement.

The walk through the park, and through the streets of Smashville for that matter, was comfortably silent, bar the sound of her high-heeled sandals  _ clip-clopping _ rhythmically on the pavement. There was once that I knocked into a fire hydrant once along the way, drawing a laugh from Palu. But otherwise, the night atmosphere was tranquil and quiet; despite the lack of conversation, the silence in itself felt tangible and strangely settling.

We approached her apartment block.

“Thank you for escorting me right to my doorstep, Mac.” I cocked my head with a smirk.

“Well, I’m taking over for Pit today, aren’t I?” I stepped into the lift with her.

“Absolute gentleman,” she replied, with a giggle.

The cold metal smell was mild and for some reason, slightly relaxing. I exhaled heavily, tapping my foot in the elevator gently so it made no sound. I gripped the rail a bit, its smooth finish safe on my fingertips.

A bell tinged, and the doors opened to reveal her apartment door. The unit was one that Pit and Palu both occupied together.

She turned around. “Mac?”

I looked at her again, tiredly.

It was only nine p.m..

“Yeah?”

“Promise me you’ll trust me.” Suddenly, she brought me into her arms.  _ O-ok. _ I hugged her tightly, rubbing the small of her back, the soft satin of the dress smooth to the touch. She chuckled, and I heard her mutter a few words that I couldn’t quite make out.

“Yeah. I trust you.” The abrupt embrace was just as abruptly finished.

“Goodnight, Mac. Stay safe.” With that, the green-haired goddess turned the key, opened the door, and vanished. From outside, I heard Pit exclaim something with his ever-youthful sounding voice.

I sighed, walking out to the lift, and headed to ground level once more.

• • • • •

The insomnia kept sleep at bay.

A defense mechanism, perhaps? Shirtless in my boxers -  _ heh _ \- with a blanket over me, with the ceiling fan and aircon turned to the max, the wind beat across my chest. I felt myself approaching my dreams, and getting closer and closer to sleep, but at the same time, the line kept getting blurred between wakefulness and slumber, and I couldn’t tell the difference between them.

Ignoring all this, there was one sentence, one sentence that kept bothering me, one sentence that kept circulating in my head without respite or give. 

_ I trust her, but does that even matter in the end? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya gang, it's been a while and I get that my writing can be slow and really long, so please tell me if it is and what your preferred style is! i don't mind any sort of feedback or criticism, please fire away.
> 
> I'll be in midterms for the next few weeks so I won't be updating, but I hope to be doing one every two weeks after that! Peace! Leave a kudos and comments if you enjoyed it, you can do this even if you're a guest!
> 
> We now have an instagram @d4_ghostwriter! Follow it for updates on when new chapters are coming out!


	3. Champion in Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do or do not; there is no try.” ~Yoda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (18 Aug 2020): Hey all, d4 ghostwriter here! If you are reading after 18th August 2020, feel free to ignore this message - otherwise, you may have noticed there are 5 chapters now; the old CH1 is now split into Volume 1 and 2; the old CH2 is now split into Volume 3 and 4. Volume 5 is completely new. No significant plot events occur differently, but more detail, structuration and the like have been implemented, so feel free to skip or reread - it’s completely up to you. I’m sorry about this, this is the last time I’ll do a drastic rework like this but yeah I thought it was necessary. Enjoy!

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 3: Champion In Training**

  
  


_ [ - Little Mac - ] _

**_( - Veilstone City | Pokémon Diamond and Pearl - )_ **

  
  


I groggily rubbed my eyes.  _ Damn. _

The alarm screamed its head off with no restraint whatsoever. I didn’t really expect it to have any, to be honest. I turned it off quickly to stop the shrill shrieking, immediately regretting it - my arm muscles were still sore from the Wolf match.

The red LEDs flashed a 7:32.

_ I never get up this early, but oh well. _

My mind felt a strange sense of heaviness. I wouldn’t be getting back to bed at this rate, not unless I wanted to be up at 2pm the next time I arose. The wardrobe was built in the corner of the bedroom, while a queen single bed was positioned in the middle. A coarse beige carpet ran the length of the floor.

I walked into the bathroom, turning the tap on for a second before washing my face. My apartment, since the last tournament, was small - yet… homely, and comfortable. The rest of the space was nothing to ring home about, with a living room and integrated kitchen. But the space inside was clean, and most importantly it was mine, and it  _ felt  _ like mine, including all the memories made inside it.

Master Hand had learned from the  _ Brawl _ tournament, where there was a centralized hotel for all the non-criminal competitors - to avoid conflicts and the potential for warfare - from their respective worlds, aside for some grey areas for Smashers like Wario and King Dedede, who were technically not criminals, but were either neutral, self-interested or corrupt.

This let them have deeper interactions with each other, making for more interesting and emotionally involved matches of sorts… but otherwise, that had turned out to be a pretty horrible idea, as all the Smashers would be mobbed by screaming fans and twelve-year-olds wanting autographs the second they stepped out for a bite to eat or some fresh air.

And this was every day for about a year.

From what the guys had told me, the ones that were around in that era - Pit, Sonic, Falc and R.O.B. - had all handled their admirers with relative grace, but fans of other, less impatient figures in the Smash community had not been as lucky. For ratings, it was more-or-less a failure.

These days, we were given random apartments or houses around the small city, so in general, no one knew where you lived; if a prolific Smasher lived in it, most of the rest of the apartment building was purposely empty, but on the outside, all of them looked the same. This was so fans living in the same house wouldn’t be able to tell their friends and fifty members of their extended family to come in and visit on a whim.

Now that would be a disaster.

Thankfully, though, this got fixed, and I was even safer because I was a regular human, without wings or green hair to conceal when I went out, although often Palu cast her disguises to prevent us from being noticed.

My phone buzzed as I whisked some eggs in a bowl. Turning the gas on with one hand, I read the message with the other.

_ “PIT: Hey Mac! Hed over 2 the Wii Fit Studio ASAP, we're gonna tran u up too get ready 4 round 4!” _

His spelling was still atrocious, but a big improvement from a few years back, in fact, yesterday I couldn’t believe my eyes when he sent a perfectly punctuated text.  _ Maybe that was Palu… _ I raised an eyebrow, pouring the egg mixture into the cast iron pan.

The satisfying sound of the oil frying the egg filled the room.

  
• • • • •

  
  


Pit was struggling with some pushups while Jane performed them effortlessly beside him.

“Twelve, come on Pit!” The Wii Fit Trainer cried out, looking up at him as they faced each other. Pit’s face was crimson, and his arms were shaking as he descended with each rep.  _ Alright, I guess watching for a few more seconds couldn’t hurt, could it? _ He saw me out of the corner of his eye, behind the glass window to the backroom, the private part of the fitness studio Jane ran. I smirked a shit-eating grin.

He tried to speak, but Jane, having finished all of her pushups, drowned his voice out with overly positive encouragement like normal. Pit’s muscles were so gone, so tired that the poor guy couldn’t even raise his arm up to point up at me.

_ It’s as though we were never apart, just like normal _ .

I smiled again, but for a different reason.

_ Eh, put him out of his misery _ . I opened the door and suddenly, the colorful bells on the doorknob jingled.

“Mac, it’s been so long!” Jane looked up at me and rushed to embrace me.

“Oh, Jane…” I hugged her tighter despite the schnasty feel of the sweat on her skin.  _ Ouh. Ugh? _ As I pulled away, she saw the look on my face.

“Haha, my bad, it’s not the nicest, I know - but it’s been a really long time buddy!”

I grinned. “That it has. You look great. How’ve you been, homegirl?”

“Yeah, I’ve been okay!” She stepped back slightly, then came back in again. “It’s crazy to see you again, Mac boy, it feels like ages!”

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, Pit crashed into the purple yoga mat, having done his fifteenth and final pushup. He looked completely finished.  _ Must be the weight of those damn wings. _

“Are we… are we done, Jane?” The exhausted angel mumbled, his normally fair complexion red and heated.

“For the time being!” Pit groaned a complaint loudly.

“We’re going to help Mac analyse some of his old matches first, but then  _ both of you _ ,” she pointed at both of us, “are going to get down to work!” I walked over to Pit, and laughed as I stepped on his back triumphantly.

“Hah, you suck.” Pit flailed on the floor.

“Stop it, Mac!” Jane giggled. “Okay, enough of that nonsense, get your butt over here. Palutena is waiting.”

We walked over, Pit’s posture still limp like a noodle, to the office. Despite Palu saying Sonic would be ready to help anytime, he was still asleep like normal.

_Typical._ _Can’t fault him, though, getting good sleep is important and, well, it’s pretty nice to wake up, y’know,_ not _drained._

It was one of the two back-most rooms, a small but well-lit space with a computer and monitor on a desk. Four chairs surrounded the table. Palu was already inside, having opened up a video file of one of my matches and watching it. Her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Morning, Palu.” Absently, she greeted me back.

_ Okay… I definitely did something wrong in that video over there. _ It was of my battle with Donkey Kong earlier in the tournament. ... _ Shit. _

Pit took a seat on Palu’s left, tiredly drying his sweat with a damp-looking towel. “Oh, is this Round Two?”

“Uhh, yep.”  _ If they’d paid attention, they would know that this is the other one I got three-stocked in… _ Jane sat next to me, looking intently into the screen.

On it, I saw that D.K. had grabbed me, hooked me over his shoulder, and thrown me upwards. Immediately after, the ape followed up with a headbutt to my back.  _ My lord, that looks  _ much _ worse than it felt… _ I winced.

Jane squeezed my thigh reassuringly, her grip still as strong as ever. Coming down, I watched myself try to avoid one more of his vicious back-aimed kicks that were notorious for edge-guarding opponents. I looked on in horror as I made no effort to dodge it, as the ape connected, sending me out of the sight of the cameras.  _ Oh, man. _ Palu grew ever engrossed, her face nearly glued to the screen.

“Hey, move back a little, I can’t see anything!” Pit complained.

She didn’t respond, as the video kept playing, and I saw myself helplessly tumble far away from the edge of the stage. My figure spun in a tornado-like fashion, trying to get the upwards distance to reach the ledge, but was about a metre away from it at the apex of spin. Curling up into a ball, I fell to the blast zone. A brilliant beam of light shone from there.

“Mac…” My vision glazed over.

“Mmh. Not the best of matches, hey?” I scratched my neck, all the while sheepishly smiling at Palu.

“Yeah… we need to fix this. We have to make sure that that absolute pushover of a game never happens again.”

Something twitched below my eye. It was either irritation, or maybe it was just that it was a sore subject for me.  _ This is an embarrassment _ …  _ but she’s so right. _ I nodded grimly, as she turned around once more. I looked at the screen, where the final stock of the match was taken - my hairy opponent had brought me offstage, clasped both hands together, and spiked me down into the bottom blast zone once more.

_ “GAME.” _ The announcer’s voice boomed out of the computer’s speakers.

“Man, are you alright?” Pit gave me a strange, concerned look. It was only then I noticed that the reminder of the damage to both physique and pride made me cringe away from the screen; I could barely see the carnage from the angle I was at.

“Uh... yeah. I’m fine.” I shook my head dismissively.

“Alright, Jane, switch the studio to omega mode! I want to see what we can make Mac do!” Palu commanded.

**_( - Jogging / Countdown | Super Smash Bros. Ultimate - )_ **

Jane nodded, going around to the other of the two backrooms.  _ Omega… mode?  _ I curiously followed her out, as did Pit. She opened the door to the mysterious area.

_ Holy crap. _

It was more or less the same as one of the prep rooms used by fighters before they went up onstage, with weapons ranging from sharp, elegant looking swords to long and cruel chain whips, accompanied by boxing gloves, arm-fittable cannons, shields and the like, all hung up on the leftmost wall. At the very back of the room - hell, it was  _ much _ bigger than it looked from the outside - there stood a cylindrical X-ray-look alike chamber where competitors scanned their bodies before matches to ‘insulate’ them from blows that would otherwise kill. Then, there were two three-metre long pods, strangely ovalian and entirely white with a single opening, used for competitors to rest immediately after  _ Smash _ -specific matches, right to the chamber’s side. Next, there were two silver, metallic respawn discs for fighters to step on and off at the beginning and end of battles, an exact replica of the ones in the stadium backroom.

Finally, at the forefront of the room, there were a large array of technical devices akin to a music-mixer, which was the one thing in the room that looked unfamiliar. Pit, too, was beside himself in a confused curiosity.  _ It’s kinda cute, in a childish way, when he acts like a six-year-old trying to think really hard to himself. _

“I’ve never seen those buttons before, what do they do? And when d-did you get all this stuff, Jane?” Jane flashed us a smile, one of those I-know-more-than-you smiles that I recall she always loved.

“One thing at a time, Pit.” Palu came behind us. “First,  _ this _ … turns the back studio into… a  _ Smash _ stage. Get behind me, Palutena.” As the taller woman came further into the room, she flicked a toggle.

There was a slow whirring sound, as a sliding clear Plexiglas door came to isolate the room from the studio. Jane then twisted a gear, pulling its lever back to a different position, from  _ Normal _ to  _ Battlefield _ . Then, there was a loud vacuuming noise, and the edges of the floor of the studio evaporated, folding in on itself, to form a trapezoidal 3D solid, about ten or eleven metres long lengthwise at the top. A much more scaled down version of the Battlefield in the stadium, given the absence of Ridley in the room at the moment. Three much thinner floating platforms appeared on top of this. The first two were at the same height, and the third was positioned above the others, in the middle of both.

“W-whoa.” Pit, right at the edge of the room, stared directly down into the blast zone through the Plexiglas. “O-oh, I don’t feel so g-good, Lady Pa-a-lutena.” I joined him, putting a hand on the queasy angel’s back.  _ That is… PTSD-inducing. _ Peering over the edge, just like the real blast zone in the arena, it was simply denoted by an area where the objects in your vision begin to blur, like that of a severe heat wave. It was a swimmingly confusing dark brown.

“Get into the Loading Chamber.” Jane gestured over to the cylindrical chamber. Walking over, she began to twist knobs and press buttons that had gibberish for labels.

“How and when the hell did you learn how to operate this stuff, Jane?” The cylinder closed, and the two bright green fluorescent vertical lights began to rotate around my body.

Tuned out from the outside, I barely heard her say “skills, Mac” before it turned to muffled garbage. When the lights stopped rotating, and the scan was complete, the doors opened to a fascinated-looking Pit. He was almost drooling.  _ Hasn’t he done this for longer than I have, though? _

“He just liked the pretty lights, didn’t you, Pit?” She jibed, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Lady Palutena…” He scratched his head.  _ Spare me… _ I shook my head.  _ Pit’s so awkward, god damnit! _

Jane knowingly glanced at me, then stared at both of them. She shook her head confusedly. “Okay, who’s going to go up against him?”

Pit volunteered. After being scanned, along with his bow-sword, Pit stepped onto the first iron plate. Jane gestured to me; stepping onto the second. I saw her finger press a button, but never to completion; my vision went blurry.

_ My head’s throbbing like a  _ bitch _ … _ After my sight cleared, and the migraine disappeared (almost instantly), I was on the other side of the glass, on a floating platform next to Pit. Palutena waved, her voice somewhat muffled by the partition.

“Okay, Mac, we’re increasing your damage to about 90%.”

From behind the glass, I saw Jane turn a few knobs. I frowned.  _ It’s beginning to feel hot already…  _ “What’s that for?” Pit dropped down from the platform, his sandals lightly clipping the surface of the platform. “We’re going to practice your long distance recovery.”

_ Oh my lord. This is gonna be painful… _ I dropped down to the same edge that Pit was on.

“Mac, when you get hit, use your Jolt Haymaker first, before your jump. I want to see whether it makes a difference.” _ Use… the special move first? Maybe she’s right - I’ve never tried that before _ .

“Ready, Pit? Slice your sword!” Pit grinned.

“Sorry, Mac.”

I braced myself. He swung the bow-sword at an angle.

My right shoulder seared, then my solar plexus.

My vision spun.  _ Oh, man… _ Pit stood still, metres away, as I began to tumble.

The fall initially felt like a creeping dread, like the sensation a crazed man with a lethal weapon is behind you. But I felt it, and watching Pit’s figure slowly ascend, relative, and my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach.

“Now, Mac!” Palutena’s voice rang out.

I felt my fist tighten with a crushing pressure, feeling so damn  _ dense _ , as I leapt forward. Every muscle in my body had to contract to withstand it, my legs included. It was like my fist, it had its own gravitational pull; it suddenly combusted, exploded in a cyan-hued flame. I punched forward as the fire cloaked my hand. The space between the stage and I closed itself rapidly. 

It was disorienting. “Jump!” Jane yelled.

“Ugh!” My legs still flailed. The dark blue underside of the stage rushed up to greet me, but was still far. My legs were jelly. It - my body - it didn’t respond. It didn’t listen. Panic.

Panic.

_ Panic. _

I felt gravity’s effects to the fullest now. Terror set in.

I was falling fast.

“Jump, Mac!!” Pit’s encouraging voice screamed. Remembering the first time I learned to jump midair and the security that floating gave… I did it, no - I felt it happen. I got closer. In the corner of my eyes, I watched Pit’s eyes widening.

“Rising Uppercut!” He yelled. I spun around, grunting, my vision swimming in the thinnest of air. The colours flipped rapidly from brown to blue to brown to blue to brown to  _ white _ , the colour of Pit’s sandals. Tension pulled on the muscles of my right arm. I looked up.

My sight still blurred. As it calmed down, and the images in view grinded to a halt, I squinted hard, narrowing my eyes at a green spherical shape, attached to the ledge, in the near distance.

It was my green-gloved hand.

My heart stopped. The strain on my forearms suddenly increased, and my fingers almost slipped.  _ What-? _ Pit offered his hand, and helped me pull myself up to the platform with my other arm. Standing up, I blanched, the dizziness not having fully worn off.

I grinned sickly.

“How’s that?” Palutena looked over at me, smiling for the first time that day. “Great! See, your recovery isn’t as bad as you once thought!” She clapped, Jane and Pit following her lead.

I smiled tiredly, as their images swam, Palutena’s and Jane’s figures superimposing themselves over each other. I dizzily bowed in mock exhaustion, but my mental state was giddy to the point of detachment.

Needless to say, I was  _ really _ tired.

My body burned. I felt steam rising out of my blood.  _ They were wrong for calling my recovery ‘one of the worst in the tournament’. _

_ FUCK them. _

I laughed to myself, in darkly elated regret, as I smelt the fresh smoke.

“Eh, I dunno whether to, uh, to, uh, feel great,” I panted, “that I could actually do that-that distance, or to, hmph feel horrible for not realising I could, y’know, earlier.”

Pit chuckled, clapping a hand on my back. “Lady Palutena, turn his damage back down again.”

Glaring LEDs above the glass pane glowed a red  _ 0% _ and a blue  _ 108%. _ The number kept falling,  _ 103% _ ,  _ 101% _ ,  _ 98% _ ,  _ 92% _ ... and then stopped at  _ 90% _ . I cocked my head in confusion.

Palu and Jane couldn’t resist a giggle. “Mac, we’re going to practice this more. You were so dizzy the first time, and you’re going to get hit around much more than this, by much  _ stronger _ opponents.” Out of my periphery, Pit pouted.

Palu continued, with a bit more curved of a smile. “We’ll stay starting at 90% for now, but…”

My head spun a bit, more gently than before. But the prickly heat under my skin felt more itchy and impatient. The exhaustion I felt at 90% damage was no joke. There was a compelling dread I felt.

_ That was… exhilarating, but it was scary. I don’t want to do this again, not today; until tomorrow, at least. _ The adrenaline had worn off, and now I just felt tired. “...okay, got all that?”  _ Oh, god, give me a break. _

“Take two! Come on, Pit, give him your best - this is your chance to practice too!” Pit grinned again, shoving me to the edge of the stage. His image blurred.

“Okay, Lady Palutena. Ready, Mac?” I staggered, getting into position again, thrusting my middle finger in his face. The golden glint of the blade flashed my vision.

His arm came down, a fire igniting in my chest, and then it all went numb, and there I was again, inches from the blast zone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so I did end up rewriting this section a bit. Hopefully you enjoyed it :)
> 
> We now have an instagram @d4_ghostwriter! Follow it for updates on when new chapters are coming out!


	4. Forewarning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Learn from the mistakes of others - you can’t live long enough to make them all yourself.” ~Eleanor Roosevelt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (18 Aug 2020): Hey all, d4 ghostwriter here! If you are reading after 18th August 2020, feel free to ignore this message - otherwise, you may have noticed there are 5 chapters now; the old CH1 is now split into Volume 1 and 2; the old CH2 is now split into Volume 3 and 4. Volume 5 is completely new. No significant plot events occur differently, but more detail, structuration and the like have been implemented, so feel free to skip or reread - it’s completely up to you. I’m sorry about this, this is the last time I’ll do a drastic rework like this but yeah I thought it was necessary. Enjoy!

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 4: Forewarning**

  
  


_ [ - Little Mac - ] _

**_( - Bloody Tears/Monster Dance | Super Smash Bros. Ultimate - )_ **

  
  


_ 4:23p.m _ , my watch read.

The warm water on my skin was refreshing and…  _ cooling _ for some strange reason.

_ Comfort at last. _

The clear liquid coursed down my body, along my muscles, and was strangely indescribable. I raised my arm slowly, my lats stiffening up, running my fingers through my hair. I brought them down again, and rested them lightly on my face.

_ I’d honestly never realised before that I could go that distance. Looking at the lists that were posted online, Master Hand had given me a faster falling speed than most other Smashers.  _ I stroked my cheek.  _ I was at least third or fourth. I don’t jump very high, either, and Rising Uppercut  _ definitely _ kills more brain cells than being absorbed by the blast zone does. _

I sighed.  _ Something good happened today.  _ I turned off the tap. The rush of the water paused as I grabbed the soap.  _ But is it wrong to feel a bit sad, regretful about the last two matches then, where I hadn’t tried this more effective method before? _

My lips shifted, as I lathered myself.

_ I mean - it is great to know that-that I have something over them, and that they were wrong about me, and they don’t, they  _ don’t _ really know me. _

Yeah.

_ It’s confirmation. It’s great. It really is. And I’m living in the now. I can’t-I can’t really change the past _ . I rubbed my eyes, the water seeping into them. I blinked it away.

_ But I still feel a bit… I don’t know what the word is, maybe, perhaps, a bit mournful? I feel  _ mournful _ , I guess, because I hadn’t done it, or tried it, before. _

The fluid ran again, soap suds falling from my body to the shower floor. _It’s still early in the tournament, though._ _I haven’t left my mark or anything on the crowd yet; it’s the beginning of a new era… so I guess two matches… two, three matches isn’t really anything._ I rinsed myself more, taking in the water. _In that sense, I guess nothing really has been lost._

The weight on my shoulders still remained there, rough around the edges and rusty, but it was a little less heavy.

_ But that was hella tiring - and we must’ve done that about thirty times, and Jane even had to sub out for Pit halfway through. _ I grabbed the faucet, adjusting the temperature.  _ The entire session was, what, one-and-a half hours?  _ I shook my head, the remains of diluted shampoo bubbles flying across the glass.

Instant regret set in, as my neck muscles suddenly seized up in a contortion of stiffness and quickly rushing blood. “Gosh-dammit!”

The pain ebbed away slowly, though the vein in my neck where I had twisted it suddenly still throbbed.  _ Despite all that… those three were really, really dedicated to training… training  _ me _. _ My gut dropped and I recognized that anxious feeling as the realisation of being loved.

_ I don’t think I could have pushed myself that hard if it wasn’t for Palu’s insistence… _ I looked down, making sure to be slow this time, and reminded myself of the purple bruises on my body, my stomach still stuck.  _ The healing pods have become much more effective since Smash Tournament 4… but regardless, Pit’s sword, even blunted, is painful as hell, and so are Jane’s hits - and, and on top of that, like any other exercise, it’s tiring. _

I turned off the tap, listening to the rock music play over the speaker. “Bloody Tears / Monster Dance”, the track was called.

_ Sometimes I hate to train Smash… on days like today. I hate doing it more often than I enjoy it - because, I guess it’s because I push so hard for it. _ I opened the shower partition door.  _ The people I do it with; they’re amazing, and, the things you realise; the small things you learn about yourself, the number of people that you can say “screw you” to at the end of the day, that feeling of accomplishment when you finish a solid training session and realise you’re one step closer to your final goal… These things, these things are what make it worth it. _

Grabbing the towel, I dabbled at my chest gently, the lingering and dull ache rippling in my muscles, eating away.

Then, in the mirror - I saw myself. Beaten up and bruised, but I was looking and  _ feeling _ stronger than ever.

I couldn’t be called ‘Little’ Mac anymore, because I’d grown since  _ Tournament 4 _ and  _ The WVBA Championships _ , perhaps about three or so inches. The strength gains were fairly apparent too, with a more well developed chest and shoulders, though the biceps were still lacking a bit.

_ Well, that might be why I can’t get-up from the ledge very efficiently… _ I yawned. My watch beeped.  _ 4:30p.m. _ R.O.B.’s match was set for eight tonight.  _ I have time for about one hour and a bit’s sleep; I’ll probably go for a walk around the park at six, grab dinner with the rest of the crew and we’ll be good to go. _

Putting on the boxers and singlet, I rushed outside into my room. The cool blast of air conditioning imposed a gradient against the hot, steamy feeling of the shower, the most pleasant sensation in the entire god-damn world. I felt instantly colder. Feeling the heat rise in my body, I smiled.

_ Life is looking up right now, even if it goes away tomorrow, at least it was good today. _

I grabbed my phone, swiping to unlock it. “Six-o-clock…” I tapped away. “Today we go for-,” slowing down as I typed, “dinner outside the stadium, then we go,-” pausing again, “for R.O.B.’s game.” I sent it, sighing.

No instant replies.  _ Damnit. _

I put the phone to sleep, drawing the curtains till it was dark, though not pitch-black. Mild rays of late-afternoon sunlight crept in intermittently. The only other light source in the room was the bright green glow of the air conditioner LED.

Climbing into bed, inertia hit me like a ten tonne rock.  _ Today was real fun. _ The black of my closed eyes; the black, the dark, it was hypnotic.  _ It was a bloody mess.  _ The random mild flashes, turns of light, moving with the waves of the curtains, were nothing, nothing in comparison to the feeling of tiredness, of  _ slowness _ .  _ It was a mess, but I was with the people I loved best.  _ I thought myself proud of the rhyme, but quickly forgot my previous thought, as though it was slipping away from me. The feeling was, it was powerful; as though it was gravity.  _ I can do the impossible.  _ It was like it was drawing me in, into its alluring pull.  _ Thanks Palu... _ I know that that was impossible, but here I was.  _ Guys, thanks... _ I was, I was, I was sinking into the bed, the cushioned feeling, the cold of the pillow, attracting me towards it, slowly. I was slowly, slowly, slowly falling asleep...

  
• • • • •

**_( - Nimbasa City | Pokémon Black and White - )_ **

  
  


Unlike the more ‘suburban’ area surrounding Centiskorch’s Café, the atmosphere around the stadium was bustling and lively. The scene was beautiful despite the noise; perhaps even  _ because of it _ . The central streets leading up to the architectural spectacle were busy, all ending in the circular stadium built on an expansive plateau-ish hill, the very southernmost tip of Smashville.

On the streets behind us, the most expensive of luxury hotels was propped up, right next to the stadium, the rent costs so high they had to charge exorbitant prices to their very wealthy patrons. Then, there were the bars filled to the brim with customers who hadn’t gotten their tickets booked early enough, so were watching the action from a television screen, on either side of the half-kilometre in diameter stadium.

Closer in, all around the stadium, there were wide, wide pavements with patches of grass to each side, trees and flowers growing on them. Food stands were set up on the grass patches, each selling a different type of junk food, be it corndogs, sausage rolls or ice creams. Irrespective of whether I was going to eat, it was nice to have the option.

Pit spoke up. “Hey, Sonic, did ya know that the main stadium can seat over twelve thousand people?” The blue hedgehog’s head cocked.

“Not really, but thanks for the useless fact Pit!”  _ Ouch. Good one, Sonic. _

Palu ignored his unintended bluntness. “That’s amazing, don’t you think?” She glanced at me for reassurance. “The fact that our fights are so heavily demanded that we sell out these big stadiums.”

I grunted my agreement. “I think that’s pretty crazy - I mean, it’s a miracle that the people living here are still entertained by this after all these years.”

Pit’s initial look of confusion had since disappeared, replaced by enthusiasm. “Ooh, cotton candy! Give me a sec, lemme go get some!”

Faster than Sonic, he’d dashed off to one of the tacky stalls, leaving Jane sighing. “When will he learn…” she muttered.  _ He ate the most out of all of us at the dinner place too; how in the world does he maintain an even moderately healthy BMI? _

After Pit rejoined us, we walked into the main lobby, through the grand double glass doors. The rush of wind from the air conditioning greeted us.

“Where do you reckon Captain Falcon and R.O.B. are? Do you think they wanna talk before the match, or-” Sonic got cut off.

“Look - up there.” Jane pointed up at the screen.

Under “Matches of the Evening”, the last fight of six was R.O.B.’s. “Uhh… Lady Palutena?” Pit was struggling to comprehend the black lighted squiggles on screen. “He’s facing… wait, versus Ganondorf?”

“Well, I’ll be damned, he’s got one hell of an easy matchup coming to him. He was one of the worst performers in  _ Tournament 4 _ , wasn’t he?” Sonic agreed with me. “I think, especially as Ganondorf is slow and all that, R.O.B. will be fine. Plus, he has no long-ranged projectiles I can think of, so really, R.O.B. should be able to keep his distance.”

Some ‘mmhs’ from the others rose, though Palu’s was somewhat doubtful.  _ Everyone’s probably thinking this too… but no one wants to say it, and neither do I; Ganondorf has an incredibly potent punish game. One wrong move, and R.O.B. could be in the dirt much earlier than expected. _

“I reckon we should go - no point meeting Falcon, he’s probably giving R.O.B. a pep talk before his match. I mean, it’s already like seven fifty-three.” I pointed at my watch.

“Yeah, Mac! You go grab the tickets - I’ll grab the food!” Sonic grinned, leaving the other three behind in a cloud of proverbial dust.

I walked up to the nearest V.I.P. counter. “Five V.I.P. seats please.” The pretty brunette attendant behind the counter smiled at me. “Smasher ID?” I took out the blue-black card, with the whitish Smash perpendicular line insignia, the vertical thicker than the horizontal.

_ SMASHER NAME: Little Mac. _

_ AGE: 19 (x1 T.M. in respective universe) _

_ I.D.: D049FT _

_ SIGNED, MASTER HAND _

The photo to the right of the details was strange - my facial features were all the same, but my neck looked thicker, and much shorter, to the point of being awkwardly compressed.

Nevertheless, it brought up memories of the first time I was here.

“All done, uh…” She paused for a second, smiling at the awkwardness.

“Er, just Mac’ll do, thanks.”

The woman chuckled. “Okay, Mac, have fun tonight!” She handed me five tickets.

“Have a good night, ma’am.” She smiled in recognition as I strolled back to the group, five wide card strips with the Smash logo on the front, this time emboldened in black. “You got the tickets? Let’s go!” Sonic said, having already come back from his little excursion.

“Jeez, didja have to give me all of it?” Pit was comically up to his chest in popcorn, chips and soft drink.  _ My god - this is half turning into an abusive relationship. _

“Well, Palutena would just pass it to you anyways, and Jane would shrivel up and die if she got near any of that stuff.” The Wii Fit Trainer shot daggers at the hedgehog. Sonic was still animatedly looking around, unaware, as though he’d said nothing out of the ordinary.

I cleared my throat. “Uh, guys?”

Pit snapped out of it. “Oh- oh yeah! We’re gonna be late, let’s go!”

We escaped the bustling lobby, taking the escalator up to one of the warp entrances, which was one of the biggest attractions to the new tourists funnily enough. Two children, blocked from entry by a stoic guard, peered curiously through a narrow window at the green-lit chamber in the room, walking all around the taller man, trying to get a better view of the mysterious object. I handed the man the five tickets, and without a word, he allowed us entry into the room, much to the plaintive complaints of the boys.

Turning the key, the man stood at the metal door to the chamber room. “Ladies first,” I snarked, mockingly gesturing for Palu to enter.

“If I chopped your nuts off, would you stop saying that?” she shot back.

I snorted.  _ What a change from yesterday, huh. _

The guard gruffly spoke. “Arms in, lady.”

I shot a glance at Pit, knowing he would be wearing a look of confused offence -  _ we’re in disguise, idiot _ \- and true enough, there he was. I shook my head, chortling. Palu disappeared from inside the chamber in a flash of emerald light, then I did too.

Next thing I knew, I was being greeted by an attendant.

“V.I.P. seats for five, right?” Out of the chamber, he led us to our seats. Most of them were already filled up with people of all ages, from the bright-eyed children wielding bags of popcorn or Poffins from the Pokémon world, to the half-drunk adults drowning their sorrows and marital issues in multiversal alcohol of varying strength.

Palu was already sitting down on her padded red seat, looking rather critically at a dozing, drooling man on her right. Jane plopped herself down to my left.

“James from area four to V.I.P. operator - turn on one-sided invisibility for seats A30 to A34.”

Something crackled over his intercom, as he responded, now to us, “You’re good to switch off your disguise, guys - and of course, gals too. If you’re wearing one in the first place, that is.” He winked at us and left.

As Jane smirked, the voice of the announcer suddenly boomed. She jumped out of her seat.

**_( - Minor Circuit [Original] | Super Smash Bros. Ultimate - )_ **

“GOOD EVENING, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN…” Cheers rose from the crowd, applause filling the air.

The disembodied voice continued. “HOW IS EVERYBODY TONIGHT?” The noise was even louder this time; the sleepyhead to Palu right woke up and smiled placidly, screams of excitement coming from a group of teenage girls above us.

“TODAY WE’VE GOT SIX OF THE BEST MATCHES FOR YOU TO WATCH! LET’S TAKE A LOOK AT OUR FIRST PARTICIPANTS, SHALL WE?”

A reddish hologram flashed above the Battlefield-forme Final Destination centrestage. In the scarlet light, an anthropomorphic fox appeared. “Howdy.” Fox spun his gun around his finger, catching it smoothly, and pointed it at the crowd. More cheers arose, a kid yelling his poor little head off at the sight of his favourite Smasher. “OUR FANTASTIC MR. FOX,” the brown-furred fox smacked his forehead, “WILL GO UP AGAINST…” The hologram this time was a clear aqua colour, of a tall blue frog, his pink tongue wrapping around his neck.

Greninja shouted. “Chaa!” The Pokémon drew two crystalline knives. He slashed them up in the air, received by some mystified ‘oohs’ from the mob. “-IN ROUND ONE OF TONIGHT’S FIGHTS!”

“SCREAM IF YOU HAVE BETS THAT OUR SPEEDY SPACE PILOT ON THE LEFT WILL WIN!” Shouts of excitement from the crowd. Fox saluted them. Sonic cheered.

“NOW, IF OUR AMPHIBIAN FRIEND, FIGHTER NUMBER FIFTY, WILL REIGN TRIUMPHANT!” The screams of the mob were even louder for Greninja, who put his hands together in thanks, adopting a tree pose. Jane whispered in my ear, “well, he’s got good form.”

“Pshah, shut it.” She giggled.

“WELL, FOX, IT LOOKS AS THOUGH YOU’RE THE UNDERDOG TONIGHT!” The space pilot shrugged his shoulders, flippantly nonchalant about it all. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO - LET’S GET TO ROUND ONE!” Both the holograms disappeared from their respective platforms.

“WOOOH! LET’S GO!!” I yelled.

“YEAH!” Pit and the others screamed their heads off. “COME ON!!’

_ “Knneewwwww...”  _ A plane flew by, over our heads. It had a strangely triangular shape and blue-and-white colour scheme.  _ An Arwing?! _ Fox jumped out of it while it was still moving, rolling onto the western platform. The same kid in front of us screamed fanboy-ishly.

A similar Arwing flew by near the eastern, disappearing on the other side, throwing out a black-and-yellow Pokéball. Greninja burst out of it.

“THREE…” The crowd held onto his every word.

“TWO… ” They yelled, in unison with the deep bass tones of the announcer’s voice.

“ONE…” I gripped the edge of my seat.

“...GO!”

Fox jumped off his platform, aiming his Blaster at Greninja. Quick as a flash, the water-dark type ninja Pokémon disappeared behind Fox. He scored a hit to the pilot’s back, knocking him to the ground. “Ack!” But as quickly as he fell, the agile animal regained his balance, resorting to pummeling his opponent with a series of rapid kicks.

“Chaa!” Greninja flinched, having been caught off-guard. Fox was relentless, his final jab launching the ninja-frog far across the fifty-metre stage. Getting up, the ninja tried to retreat, but was caught by his adversary’s signature Fox Illusion, a bluish shot of light taking Fox in front of his opponent. With millimeter-precise accuracy, Fox leaped and aimed a backwards kick at his opponent.

“WOW! WHAT A  _ HIT _ FROM THE CAPTAIN OF TEAM STAR-FOX!” Greninja grunted in pain, his damage already displayed in the forties. The one-sided juggle continued for over half a minute. Greninja’s tall frame, high falling speed and inability to get out of Fox’s incessant aerial strikes was wearing him out, while Fox had barely taken a single hit himself.

Tired, the ninja Pokémon tried to dodge one of Fox’s upwards-aimed kicks.

But, it was simply bait.

Fox’s leg lingered in the air, before snapping back, connecting with Greninja’s head with a sickening  _ crack _ . I watched as Greninja was sent to the blast zone, disappearing in a brilliant beam of light. “Let’s go Fo-ox, let’s go!” The charismatic ace pilot smirked at the crowd’s energizing chant.

The battle was over in the next three minutes. Greninja was much more wary of Fox’s advances and had to play defensively, shooting five-pronged water shurikens instead. But Fox adequately guarded himself. None of those projectiles was an issue for him. He reflected them back at Greninja on occasion, catching him unawares, and ending his second stock; much to some of the crowd’s dismay, wanting the underdog to come out on top, Greninja didn’t make a comeback. He only managed to take one of Fox’s stocks, before getting out-maneuvered again with a sneaky bicycle kick.

“THAT’S GAME, FOLKS.” The announcer boomed to crowd cheers.

Fox stood at the front of the stage, flashing a confident grin to the audience. A salute marked the end of his round, as he saluted, smirking, and was taken by the Arwing again.

  
• • • • •

**_( - Gerudo Valley [Remix] | Super Smash Bros. Ultimate - )_ **

  
  


The rest of the night went by quickly. Round two, which was Ike, the swordsman, against Mega Man, was another one-sided match in favour of the projectile-oriented fighting robot-machine. Other matches, like the fourth - two Smash 4 veterans, Roy and Mewtwo - were more balanced, yet still fast-paced.

The numerous bags of snacks were finished by round three by all but Jane and I. I’d looked over at the giggling Palu beside me at one point as she sucked chip dust off her fingers.

_ I guess that’s the advantage of being a literal age-old goddess… _

And then, round six of six came by faster than expected.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! YOU’VE BEEN AN AMAZING CROWD THUS FAR TONIGHT, AND IT IS NOW TIME FOR OUR FINAL MATCH OF THE EVENING.”

Palu shook me. “It’s time, Mac.” I nodded, biting the cusp of my lower lip, the fanfare building.

“I PRESENT TO YOU… THE DEMON KING, GANONDORF!” Out of a purple swirling void, the man behind the infamous Warlock Punch appeared. He fisted his free hand, a dark grin on his face. Sparks flew from machines all around for the heel fighter.

“AND IN THE RIGHT CORNER, A ROBOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE SALVATION OF AN ENTIRE INDUSTRY, R.O.B.!” From an unknown corner on the other side of the stadium, R.O.B. flew up and over, using his Robo Burner to lift himself onto the platform. “FIGHTERS, ARE YOU READY?” The tall being wielded a dull gold sword with lethal range and nodded, the wicked smile he bore creeping like an insect up his face. R.O.B. nodded.

“THREE.” A hand gripped my wrist tightly. “Mac.”

“TWO.” Her grasp got firmer.

“Mac!” I turned to Palu.

“ONE-”

She shook her head, green locks of hair billowing in the wind. “Mac... I don’t have a good feeling abo-”

“GO!” The mob’s chants drowned out the rest of her words. Her head snapped back to the action. R.O.B. began spinning his gyro, a circular slice of metal he removed from his body.

Dropping through the soft platform, he threw it in front of him, stopping Ganondorf’s approach with its sharp edges. With surprising speed, the demon king leaped over it, smacking R.O.B. in the face with an overhead punch.

“WHAT A POWERFUL HIT!” Ganondorf pushed the gray robot with a shoulder charge. With a surprisingly smooth somersault, he followed up with an overhead kick, sending him into the air.

“I don’t like this either…” I furrowed my brow.

_ It’s as though he’s… faster than normal. _

“I think R.O.B.'s  _ really _ struggling,” Pit commented, as Ganondorf landed yet another up-aerial.

In that moment, I looked into R.O.B.'s eyes. He might’ve stared straight back at me, the circular beads unable to demonstrate human emotion, but it.. It damn near felt like desperation.

“RUN, ROBOT, RUN!”

R.O.B. turned at the man-beast, pointing his base and firing a hexagonal hive of hot flames at his opponent. The air around us warmed. But Ganon barely flinched, blocking the heat with his arms forward suited in leather armor.

“He’s so strong!”

“How does that guy withstand that heat?”

“I mean, wow, I can feel it from here!”

More gasps rose as Ganondorf shot his hand out quickly, grasping R.O.B.’s neck. Without hesitation, he thrust the three-hundred-pound robot into the ground.

“INCREDIBLE!”

With a sickeningly high bounce, R.O.B. flew into the air. Ganondorf jumped. He smacked into him once,  _ THUD, _ then  _ twice _ . _ THUD. _ The resounding slams were satisfying to my ear but alarming and disconcerting to my heart.

“Shit, he  _ is _ struggling, Pit.” The winged teenager didn’t respond.

An electrical creak barely sounded over the thunderous cheers of the crowd, chanting Ganondorf’s name. R.O.B. feebly tried to dodge in the air, his precarious position compromised.

The following seconds played in slow motion.

In an instant, R.O.B. had his feet on the ground.

He tried to put his hands up, to guard against the onslaught.

Ganondorf shot forward suddenly, a burst of discordant violet fire billowing from his feet.

Palu gasped. “Crap, that’s Wizard’s Foot!”

_ Uh-oh.  _ R.O.B.’s round eyes lit up in panic for a brief second, paralysed by his indecision, before he rocketed to the blast zone from the sheer impact.

“NOT A SINGLE HIT AGAINST THE ONE EVERYONE  _ LOVES _ TO  _ HATE _ ! MY GOODNESS, A ZERO-TO-DEATH!” People screamed their heads off. Some voices were high-pitched and youthful, others masculine and energetic, or feminine and exuberant.

A translucent platform descended again, with R.O.B. on top of it. “WILL OUR OWN ROBOTIC OPERATING BUDDY RECOVER?” R.O.B. dropped, much more unsteady this time.

“He’s nervous.” Jane sounded worried.

R.O.B.’s eyes followed Ganondorf coming up from underneath him. He flipped, covering himself with the same orange fire.  _ Ganon isn’t doing anything-? _ Ganondorf shone his sword smugly, which sparkled in the moon’s light, dancing along the blade smoothly.

“OH, A BIT OF CONFIDENCE FROM THE MAN-BEAST! I LIKE IT!” R.O.B. descended from the platform, trying to catch him off-guard. Ganondorf was strangely as quick as Sonic. He’d blocked R.O.B.’s aerial swipe, punishing it with a tiger palm strike.

Our man had wheeled backwards, in a state of panic, but he blocked Ganondorf’s subsequent kick. He punished Ganondorf by grabbing him, bashing his adversary with his metallic fists.

“Yes!” Sonic exclaimed.

“R.O.B.’s regaining his confidence, look!” I pointed, as he’d followed up by burying him into the dirt. The people around us  _ lost _ their  _ shit _ . “AND R.O.B. HAS COME BACK - WHAT A CONFIDENT SHOW FROM HIM DESPITE THE PREVIOUS STOCK!”

In his disadvantaged position, Ganondorf could do little to avoid the red laser beam that had been fired his way. It shot the demon king in a spectacular yellow flash. He grunted in pain. R.O.B. put his hands together once more, readying his gyro to make Ganon’s landing even tougher.

Ganondorf’s face morphed from a mild irritation to a furious frustration. R.O.B. threw a gyro at his now-grounded opponent, making him flinch as he was pushed back even further. Throwing the gyro again, he slammed the seven-foot-tall titan off the edge of the stage.

“He’s got him offstage, he’s got him offstage!” Pit yelled. I gripped the edge of my seat. The robot swung his silver arms at him, thrusting his opponent farther away. The crowd’s buzz was louder than ever, and I felt it on my skin. R.O.B., retreating, gripped the ledge securely in his strong metal hands.

“CAN GANONDORF’S INFAMOUSLY POOR RECOVERY LET HIM COME BACK FROM SUCH A DISTANCE? OH, MY, OH, MY!” The armored swordsman swung his arm upwards, rising in altitude. A powerful, almost  _ magnetic _ ball of purple electricity cloaked his fist.

“ _ THUD _ .” He smacked R.O.B. off the edge. Palu gripped her hands closer to himself, biting her nails nervously. When I turned back, Ganondorf was in a dead hang position, on the ledge. R.O.B. was falling away.

Suddenly, he dropped off the level.

Ganondorf  _ pushed himself away _ from the ledge.

_ W-what is he trying? _

He grunted, tilting his body back, aligning his shoulder with the weakened robot. R.O.B. beeped in alarm, unsure of his opponent’s next move.

Ganondorf spun around and smacked R.O.B. into the blast zone with a cruel backhand.

Rainbow light flew from the blast zone, illuminating Ganondorf’s facial features in a wicked, victorious scowl. Without an issue, he Dark Dived upwards, grabbing the ledge again. He pulled his thick frame onto the level and stretched outwards with a masculine growl.

Pit was focussed intently, sitting forward, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

“It... it’s his last stock already!?”

Jane lay back in her seat in her tracksuit, much less agitated. On her face, she wore a disbelieving, even sceptical, expression at the surreal scene she was watching.

R.O.B. hung his head in frustration, dropping to ground level once more.

“THIS COULD BE ANOTHER THREE-STOCK FOR THE DEMON KING!”

For once, I wished the announcer would shut up. R.O.B., flustered, dashed into Ganondorf again impatiently. Ganondorf had planned, though, for the follow-up choking grab, indigo-coloured steam trailing his closed, dark fist.

“Rmph!” His voice was severe as the man himself, but more contemptuous, contemptuous for his opponent and his opponent’s _ weakness _ . Ganondorf violently thrust R.O.B. into the ground, who emitted an anxious beep, and compressed himself into a metal ball, sliding backwards on the ground.

It was a mistake.

Ganondorf had spun around. R.O.B. rolled behind him, unaware of this. His adversary unsheathed his weapon; as he struggled to get up, and defend himself, Ganondorf raised it overhead, a cruel gleam in his eye.

R.O.B. held his steel arms up. The King of Darkness swung the sword with fatal force.

I closed my eyes.

There was a wicked cry. Then, an electrical scream.

Palu covered her face in her hands.

“GAME.” The announcer cried out in glee, the frivolous fanboys delightedly cheering, but inside, all felt silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed - don't forget to leave kudos and comments!!
> 
> We now have an instagram @d4_ghostwriter! Follow it for updates on when new chapters are coming out!


	5. Revelations of a Low-Tier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time spent with family is time well spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (18 Aug 2020): Hey all, d4 ghostwriter here! If you are reading after 18th August 2020, feel free to ignore this message - otherwise, you may have noticed there are 5 chapters now; the old CH1 is now split into Volume 1 and 2; the old CH2 is now split into Volume 3 and 4. Volume 5 is completely new. No significant plot events occur differently, but more detail, structuration and the like have been implemented, so feel free to skip or reread - it’s completely up to you. I’m sorry about this, this is the last time I’ll do a drastic rework like this but yeah I thought it was necessary. Enjoy!

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

**Volume 5: Revelations of a Low-Tier**

  
  


_ [ - Little Mac - ] _

  
  


Since two days ago, Palu’d told Pit to get back to reading; although he’d improved since  _ Tournament 4 _ , he was still only reading at a  _ fifth-grade level _ . Since yesterday, it’d been an opportunity for us to ‘bond’ in a really strange sense. Except for Sonic, who lost his patience at him or slept through the sessions.

Or both.

“Aight, Pit, what does this say?” I looked up at the young angel.

“Amp-hibb-ee-an?” Pit pronounced every syllable delicately, his fingers dancing nervously on the paper. A cute caricature of Greninja with a dopey smiley-face was drawn to the right of it.  _ Being illiterate certainly  _ doesn’t _ have its perks, huh. _

“Good, but it’s not ‘amp-hib’ - ‘amf-ib’. Make sure you get that, yeah?” He nodded.

“Next one.” I pointed across the page.

“Uh… poor-tay-ble?” Palu laughed, though not unkindly.

“Pohr-tah-bel, Pit.” He turned red.

“Dangit, I thought that one looked a little funny,” as he scratched the back of his head. The brown locks on his scalp flailed around wildly.

“What about there?”  _ Ultimate _ .

“Ull-tim-ay-tey?” Pit rubbed his arm distractedly, eyes still fixated on the black text.

“Nope, try again; we’re in the middle of it right now.” He looked at me confused, but had a moment of realisation.

“Ah, Ul-tim-ate! Got it!” I nodded, pounding his closed fist.

“You’re learning pretty quick, bro, I’m proud of you.” Pit smiled at me appreciatively, but his expression was embarrassed.

“Th-thanks, I guess.” I raised an eyebrow, chuckling.  _ He looks more flustered than when we did this yesterday… _

“Arrighty, we’ve been doing this about an hour already, and Sonic’s already asleep-” I pointed at the dozing hedgehog on the lounge chair, “so we might as well go. You made good progress today, bro. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” I patted him on the back.

“Is he, uh… getting up anytime soon?”

“Likely not, no.” Palu conjured up a ball of water and promptly dumped it on his head.

“Aagh!” Sonic’s blue head spines withered in the water. “What the hell was that for, L’il?”

“Sorry? That was her!” His eyes narrowed in frustration, and Sonic closed his fist. I pointed to Palu in protest.

The wet hedgehog shook his head, flinging water all over the room.

“Oh, why’d you have to do that?” Palu moaned. “This is  _ my _ house…”

I gave her a look. “Oi, shut up; you could literally clean that up in a second.”

She got up, dragging her feet melodramatically along the ground. “Being a goddess takes strength, Mac, and I use it all whenever I’m with you.”

I snorted. “Whatever.”

Sonic, despite having been highly pissed a few seconds ago, seemed to get back to normal. “We’d better get a move on. We only get fifteen minutes to visit R.O.B. and we are pretty far from there - the bus ride is about thirty plus minutes.” He pointed at me and Pit. “Palutena can warp there, and I can sprint at sonic speed, obviously,” he snarked, “but you two would have to run.”

Pit baulked at the thought.

“So, let’s go.”

• • • • •

**_( - Gate Theme | Pokémon Black and White - )_ **

Outside the apartment building, newly cloaked in Palu’s disguise, Sonic spotted a blue and beige striped bus.

“Over there, gang!” He shouted. A digital  _ 52 _ in yellow light bulbs appeared on the back of it - the route to the hospital. Pit and I ran over faster than Sonic could start, chasing the accelerating vehicle.

“He-ey! Wait!” The sudden voice break Pit had in the middle of it was hard to appreciate in the moment. The bus stopped abruptly.

The glass doors made a hydraulic hissing noise. I groped around in my pocket for a couple dollars, dropping them into the coin chute. The bearded, beer-gutted old man behind the rubber steering wheel grunted impassively as the metal pieces clanged against the plastic, his entire body shaking as he did so, settling down into the same flaccid slouch of his again.  _ Is the guy the literal embodiment of a human vegetable? _

It was as though he was more-or-less  _ asleep _ with his eyes open.

Pit and Sonic followed, chucking a couple coins in themselves. They sat down, as some of the eyes on the bus followed them. Neither of them seemed too self-conscious. The doors began to close.

“Wait, wait!” Palu awkwardly hurried in, a long step for her, as she huffed and puffed. She turned red, as now all eyes on the bus turned to face her, including that of Zombie Dude. 

The three seconds of silence, as she fumbled with her purse, was excruciating.

I ended up grabbing a spare dollar and passing it to her. She muttered a low thanks, before plopping down next to me in the aisle seat. The bus’ pistons exhaled again. I felt a bump, and as it sped up, the eyes returned to their phones, books and children one-by-one, and Zombie Dude returned to watching - I repeat,  _ watching _ \- the road.

_ God, if you exist, I pray we don’t crash. _

Having since recovered from the embarrassment, I felt Palu’s gaze focussed in the same direction as mine - looking out the window. The suburbs were a splendid melting pot of colour, but primarily the mildly-brown grey of asphalt and pavement, solid black of the signs and chalkboards up around the small rooms of the surviving restaurants, splashes of cyan blue and bright red chalk decorating them like little Christmas lights.

Then, there was the 50s style black-and-white checkerboard tiling on the floor in a café; the photos of tantalizing food on overhead screen menus; possibly pasta, possibly pizza, no one knows as the images passed by much quicker than the eye could fully discern. At the traffic junction, the bus slowed, then stopped with a gassy whistle.

I watched a scene unfold at a local gelato store on the corner. A mustachioed, smiling man handed a young girl a vanilla ice cream, with a pink swirl decorating the top, a small spire. She giggled, its youthful sound muffled by the glass partition, but she giggled.

That made me smile.

The girl flew left, slowly accelerating as the rumbling started up again. The line of shops had since broken, ending in the four-way junction; it itself broke into the greenery of a peaceful park. Something brushed my shoulder; it must’ve been the wind on the air-conditioning. It was overbearingly cold and had began to numb my hands, and my fingers felt slow. I shifted to adjust it, my eyes unbreaking from the green.

A light gray was the chosen palette of the sky gods today. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant on its own; it was beautiful in its own way, but not warm, and certainly not welcoming. Looking up at it, it was likely the reason for the lack of people in the field. Even so, there were a couple teenagers standing around. They wore dark t-shirts with metal bands’ outlandish, darkly contrasted logos drawn on them of gold skulls and eerie purple rings. Some tossed a frisbee idly, while a few others sat under a short but thick tree, its muscular arm-like branches providing a sort of shade that didn’t really function the same purpose as if the sun was out.

It was then I felt a strange dread within me, just looking up at that bleak, hopeless sky...

The cold air still beat down on me.  _ Damn, I thought I turned it off. _

I turned away briefly, afraid of missing out on whether Johnny on the right or Billy to the left would catch the next throw of the frisbee disc. Grabbing the vent, I adjusted it, yanking it shut.

Suddenly, there was a solid, dead weight on my right shoulder.

Palutena’s head.

Her chest rose and fell, in perfect sync with her breathing, and her green hair was still and unmoving in the ventilation. Her eyes were shut tight, and her skin looked radiant and well, more so than normal. I felt the powerful pull of her sleep, looking at the way she so fully rested against the seat, like the way one presses themselves into a bed they so badly want to sleep in, after a long day of either hard slog or mental work, or perhaps both.

My lip curved upwards, the beginning of a smile.

_ Should I tell her about this? _

I let her head rest its full weight on my shoulder, as uncomfortable as it was, it felt… pleasant. Comforting, in a sense, juxtaposed against the rough look of the sky and the unfamiliar disquieting silence of the bus.

_ Nah, let her have her sleep. _

I knew it wasn’t  _ just _ about her napping - it was simply nice, to have a cute girl sleep on your shoulder. It was nice. That I knew.

_ What about later, though? It would be hilariously awkward to see how she’d react… _

I looked at her serenely resting face again.

_ No. This is my moment. It’d ruin it if I turned it into just another joke. _

I glanced at Pit and Sonic; both of whom were seated in near-identical positions, slumped forwards in their seats, restrained only by the tight black strap of the seatbelts.

_ Yeah. It  _ is _ my moment, and hers if she, well, realises. _

I gazed fondly at her face again from afar. It was unblemished. Smooth. Fair. I could only imagine what her large, closed eyes looked like in the moment, those emerald green irises that I would grow to recognise since the first time I saw her, in  _ Tournament 4 _ , when I made it a point to make eye contact with everyone I met. Her nose was elegantly shaped, long yet small. Then, there were her lips; her lips, they were thin, but they were energetically coloured, opening and closing rhythmically, the steady conductor of the orchestral melody of her face.

As strange as it might seem, her face was a work of art in itself, in perfect da Vincian proportions, not due to any external, artificial facet, but of birth.

She was beautiful.

_ Wow, where did that thought come from? _

I raised an eyebrow, unconsciously, at myself, on the silent bus. No one saw me thinking.

Thankfully.

  
• • • • •

**_( - Canalave City [Daytime] | Pokémon Diamond and Pearl - )_ **

  
  


R.O.B. had taken a pretty hard K.O. by Ganondorf in the last round, taped two nights ago. The damage you received overall in the battle, as well as the amount stock-wise your opponent won you over by, all contributed to the amount of injury sustained after the fact. 

Even with the stasis pods in the admin rooms didn’t do much to help, and R.O.B. had to be surgically re-wired with one of his main ‘spinal cords’ broken.

Being made of literal metal, before battles the tournament organisers gave him less pre-battle ‘insurance’ to make it fairer on other competitors, and as a result he often sustained more damage afterwards. Without the failings of human skin, blood and bones, there were never any severe long term consequences or health concerns following surgery like pins and needles for R.O.B..

‘He’ lay on a specialist-looking bed. A multitude of steel mini-fans surrounding him blew wind in his direction to cool his overheating core down. I shivered in my pink hoodie, the cold wind licking the exposed parts of my skin.

“How’re you doing, buddy?”

His two beady eyes had closed, instead acting as a screen, projecting his ‘voice’. _BETTER._ The red text disappeared, and new words re-appeared. _THAN._ _YESTER-. DAY._

“That’s good to hear.” Pit pressed his hand to R.O.B.’s mechanical chest. “It’s really warm… are these fans working well enough for you? Is there anything we can do?” With a mechanical creak, he curved his neck upwards, slowly shaking it.  _ NO. _

“Pit can’t read too fast, so speak slowly, yeah?” I reminded him.

The robot craned his neck.

_ I. JUST. LIKE. IT. WHEN. YOU. ARE. HERE. WITH. ME. _

Pit smiled and rubbed the robot’s cold silver head.

Sonic was unusually quiet and patient in the last few minutes. “Well, we’ll be here for a little bit anyways to keep you company,” the hedgehog started. “How have the staff been treating you?”

_ NICELY. THEY. HAVE. BEEN. RE-. CHARGING. ME. _

I nodded. “How long till you’ll be out?”

_I. DON’T. KNOW._ _I AM. FEELING. GOOD. PERHAPS. TOMORROW._

After the final red flash stopped, I grimaced a little and glanced over at Sonic. “He won’t make it to your game tonight, bro.”

Sonic slapped his knee in frustration, but turned to R.O.B. and smiled. “It’s alright; we all have stuff to do sometimes, and no-one always 100% makes it for every event that we got together - that’s fine.”

R.O.B. cocked his head, his ‘expression’ morphing into what seemed to be a frown.

“Oh yeah, Jane would’ve come, but she has customers in her studio booked,” I continued. Sonic raised an eyebrow. “Same with Falcon, he’s in the repair shop.”

Palu came over with a tired but happy expression, evident from her nap on the bus.

“Speaking of which; hey, R.O.B,” she started, “where was Captain Falcon on the night of your match? He wasn’t with us.” The robot turned off his LED display, and the indigo-black lenses for eyes came back briefly before reverting.  _ HE. WAS. WITH. ME. _ Pit, beside me, nodded. _ LAST. MINUTE. ADJUST-. MENTS. _

Palu’s once-sceptical look changed to relief. “Alright, because we didn’t see him before the show. He did say he would be with you, so I wanted to make sure of that.”

A bulky, loud nurse in white opened the door and popped her head in. “The patient needs his rest,” she shrieked shrilly, “so you have five minutes to get outta here!”

Sonic saluted the nurse, standing fully erect. “OK, boss!”

Before she left, the nurse stared into his eyes with the most pissed-off smirk, eyes bearing into his soul. Palu and Pit were losing it behind him, his face still moulded in that sardonic grin.

I hid a chortle. 

“Five. Minutes.” She shut the door with a slam.

I could’ve sworn I heard her muttering about being underpaid right after.

Palu was the first to recover from the exchange. “I couldn’t help but notice that, during your match, Ganondorf was a lot faster and stronger than he was since the last tournament.” Murmurs of assent rose from Pit and Sonic. R.O.B. beeped.  _ I. AGREE. HE. WAS. ABLE. TO. CATCH. ME. IN. THE. AIR. QUICKLY. _

“You reckon he got buffed?”

‘Buffs’ in the conventional sense meant Master Hand intervening, and might include a change in air speed, falling speed, or adding weapons to the Smasher’s toolkit, or finally, increasing a special move’s functionality, distance, or helplessness; things otherwise outside the Smasher’s control.

The definition of a buff didn’t really extend to learning how to punch more optimally, practicing strike speed, power or force, or extending move creativity.

Because of that, buffs were very controversial and sometimes unpopular amongst both Smasher and viewer alike, unless it was an across-the-board buff or a buff to a notably weaker competitor.

_ Hey, if Ganondorf got buffed, why the hell didn’t I? I was low-tier last tournament too. _

“Yeah. I think so too,” Pit said. “While I was watching, I noticed Ganondorf go really far below the stage. What’s that move called, again?” He snapped his fingers, thinking. “That Dark Dive, I think, went much further than before.”

Seeing some empty looks, he elaborated, flustered. “Uh- when h-he dropped off the level to hit R.O.B. away, on the second stock.”

_ When did he pick that up? Pit’s a lot more perceptive nowadays. _

“Sharp, Pit,” Palu nodded. “He seemed to have caught up to you in the air much faster, R.O.B.; there’s only so much he can do to get a greater jump height.” R.O.B.’s metallic neck creaked. He didn’t respond with his lit-up words, just making a low whirring sound.

Sonic stroked his chin. “It’s strange. Master Hand would’ve announced something by now if that was the case.”

I shrugged. “That seems a little out of character for him, as unpredictable as he normally is. It’s only one game, though; if we want to bring it up with him he might just deny it on the basis that it was just ‘one game’. We’re gonna need some better evidence.” The others nodded, some ‘mmhs’ going up in the room.

“That’s true,” the hedgehog responded, “yeah. That’s a toughie; we should wait a while.”

_ Unusual for Sonic, damn. _

“It would be obvious if he actually got buffed now that we’re all thinking the same thing, so if one of us goes up against him in future rounds, then we’d be able to record the battle, or something, I guess.”

Palu nodded. “Good thinking. The night session has six battles too - so even if we don’t specifically have matches against him, there’s a good chance we will watch him fight someone else.”

Pit and I nodded in agreement.

I got up. “Aight, R.O.B., I reckon we might have to dash off. That lady might come back again.”

Having already sat up, the robot whirred lowly, and hung his head.

“Sorry buddy.” I came over to rub his head. “We’ll come and visit you tomorrow aswell if we get the chance, yeah?” He beeped happily.

Over the course of  _ Tournament 4 _ , I’d learned to interpret R.O.B.'s beeps and boops for emotion through their pitch, volume, length and tone variations, but sometimes it was still a little ambiguous.

This one was definitely joyous, though.

“Take care, R.O.B..” Pit fist-bumped the robot. “Call us if you need anything!” Palu smiled and waved.

Shutting the hospital room door, we watched the pissed-off nurse from before turn the corner around the corridor, her fat index finger frantically tapping her watch, before looking up straight at us, realising we had come out just a few seconds on time. She sauntered off, defeated.

“Some people, man.” Sonic shook his head.

“I have no words.”

“Does lunch sound good to ya guys?” Pit broke the awkward silence.

“Better than she does.” The tall goddess sighed.

  
• • • • •

**_( - N's Bridge | Pokémon Black and White - )_ **

  
  


My palms were flooding the pockets of my hoodie.

My heart thumped. Palu put a hand on my shoulder. I stiffened slightly.

“Mac, you’re trembling. What’s wrong?” I pointed up at the screen. Our next matches were displayed on the glow of the TV monitor.

Sonic was still celebrating his win with Pit and Jane in the main lobby, the final fight of Round Three. He stood behind an autographing table, a long line of fans behind it separated by red tape and stanchion posts.

A young five-year-old girl squealed as she finally met her favourite Smasher. Sonic happily grabbed the pen and, quick as a flash, drew a fast little caricature of himself on the paper serviette with his autograph to accompany it.  _ Smooth. _ The girl beamed, obviously chuffed with what she got. She ran under the table and hugged Sonic’s leg, before dashing back to her smiling parents. The married couple, a tall, presentable man and his relaxed-looking wife, waved to Sonic cheerily, before leaving the line. He reciprocated, laughing, with Jane and Pit grinning ear-to-ear right next to him, his bodyguards in the (rare) case of a crazed fan.

“I can get why you’re nervous, Mac.” Palu had finished searching for my fighter icon. She squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. “At least it’s not for another few days, though. You’ve got time to prepare.”

“Yeah.” I stared back up at the screen. The blue-striped columns containing competitor names and times that disappeared intermittently, given the numbers of fights, didn’t include my name. Waiting a couple of seconds, the visuals changed again, and there it was.

_ ROUND FOUR MATCHES: _

_ DAY TWO: FRIDAY 7 AUGUST: 20:00 / NIGHT SESSION _

_ The Great Phantom Thief, JOKER! vs. The Shovel Blade Wielder, SHOVEL KNIGHT! _

_ The Reawakening Legend, MEWTWO! vs. King of the Koopas, BOWSER! _

_ The Champion of Hyrule, LINK! vs. The Masked Swordsman, META KNIGHT! _

_ The Young Lion, ROY! vs. The Master of Two Dimensions, MR. GAME AND WATCH!  _

_ The Nocturnal Ranger, DECIDUEYE! vs. The Luminary, HERO! _

_ The Bruiser from the Bronx, LITTLE MAC! vs. The King of Darkness, GANONDORF! _

My eyes glazed over just looking at it…  _ If R.O.B., his stupidly insane gyro and all of his laserbeams and recovery and long-distance strikes and everything couldn’t even lay a finger on Ganondorf…  _

_ What sort of chance does that give me? _

Gazing at the wicked dull gold sword he wielded, it must’ve weighed over three quarters of my weight. His mobility, in being heavier, was undoubtedly worse than mine, but power-wise, Ganondorf was no joke. The guy finished off R.O.B. in a mere _ two hits _ from his fist and blade.

That was all it would take.

Two hits, maybe even less. R.O.B. was made of steel - I just skin and bone.

I shook my head, cringing at the thought. Palu’s grip on my shoulder tightened, and then, I felt slightly more reassured, slightly better. It was though, at the same time, the deep-seated fear of being hit by his heavy, threatening sword was balanced by a feeling of desire. The amazing feeling that reminded me of why I was here - I felt, in that moment, a lot of love for Smash; the feeling that you’re going up against someone so much stronger than yourself; to be the ultimate underdog who eventually comes out on top.

It dawned on me, then, that no matter how many times I lost, I always… forgot, in a sense, the fact that I lost - it wasn’t that I had this grandiose, indomitable spirit that was crushed over and over that was to be  _ commended _ and  _ lauded _ and all these fancy words, it wasn’t that despite the circumstances, I always rose back up to the occasion; I didn’t have resilience and all those traits - it was that I was never really crushed in the first place.

I was never really crushed in the first place.

I was frustrated, back in Round Three, in the hospital, but that feeling left me as quickly - as quickly, as  _ quickly _ as it came.

_ I don’t really hate losing, except in the moment, when I absolutely despise it. _

_ I just really love the thrill of battle. _

Just then, an angry-looking fan in his mid-twenties sauntered over to the autograph table, bypassing the line completely.

“OI!” He slammed his fists on the table, completely interrupting Sonic as he was signing a young boy’s autograph. “You call that a match?!”

Sonic, initially taken aback, recovered quickly. He cocked his head.

“I mean, under official Smash rules,” he raised an index finger, “that was a match, yes. Why’dja ask?” Some members of the line laughed. Pit tightened the grip on his bow-sword, staring the man down.

The man turned red in the face. “I don’t know about you, but that was a bloody disgrace.” From a distance, I watched his expression turn cold.

His eyes narrowed. “In the history of Smash, no one has ever needed to stall for seven minutes. Your tactics are just all the same; where’s the entertainment or the  _ honour _ in the way you play? There’s no strength or skill involved, just a biological trait given to you that you abuse constantly without developing originality of your own.”

“How can you expect to entertain a crowd like that?”

He strode out of the lobby to the silence of the fans in the line.

As soon as he’d left, clamoring ensued - some booing the man’s statements, others encouraging Sonic to not listen to him, and then there were others still who gossiped excitedly amongst themselves. Studying his expression, the way the muscles around his mouth pulled themselves into a forced smile, he was affected by it, even if just a little.

Jane shook her head, bent over and whispered something into his ear; Sonic acknowledged it with a perfectly neutral expression.

Pit, ever-stoic, was the first composed, and offered to give the off-put fans at the start of the line autographs, photos and other memorabilia instead, which they accepted, content.

“That guy is an asshole.” Palu cleared her throat. “I’m going to go over to Sonic. He looks like he could use some support.” I nodded.

“You go do that,” I lied, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

She flashed me a thumbs up, striding over to Sonic.  _ He’ll be fine with the others, I suppose. Don’t think the guy would’ve left too far too quickly, he only removed himself from the room to make a statement, right? _ I shook my head and quietly shuffled along.

I opened the door, and the cool night air brushed my face biting. The steps I took turned from the basketball-court smudged against tile to silence against the tessellated brick pavement. The space around twenty to thirty metres outside of the stadium was packed with people lining up for tour buses and taxis.

Closer in, I spotted him. Red hoodie. Tall, about six foot three, with ginger hair. Hands crossed across his chest, an expression of infuriating arrogance woven onto his mug. Cigarette nudged between index and middle finger, leaning against the edge of the stadium. I didn’t want this to get to a fight, but what was his deal?

I cracked my knuckles, more so for any psychological boost than physical.

“What’s your problem?” 

“Who the hell are you?”

“That’s not important. What was the point of you going up and making a big deal in there?” I pointed back into the stadium, cocking my neck.

He didn’t even turn his head. “I said what everyone in the room was thinking.”

_ What is his goddamn deal? _ “Sorry?”

“You heard me. Don’t play  _ dumb. _ ” He sneered nastily.

“What was  _ your point _ in going up and lambasting someone who had just  _ won _ his match? Are you just doing this for the sake of pointing out another flaw in this tournament? Just for the sake of hati-”

“I’ll stop you right there.” He jabbed me in the chest. I stood my ground. “Sonic, or anyone else in there, are entertainers. Why else do you think an omnipotent being like Master Hand would bring you here? It takes an absolutely  _ enormous _ amount of energy and effort to bring you from all pockets of the goddamn multiverse.

“If you don’t play to the best of your abilities, you aren’t doing your job. You aren’t fulfilling your purpose. You win with skill and grace, you deserve applause. You fail, fall in the dirt, or play dirty, you don’t. I think I speak for both myself  _ and _ everyone else watching, when I say that’s what  _ matters _ .

“But,” he continued, “it’s not even just about that playstyle of his; How did he even deserve to get into this tournament in the first place? He’s not even from the right universe group. It would have been additionally strenuous, even for one as strong and able as Master Hand,” he emphasised, “and this is all that that venture gets him. A fighter who plays till two minutes below the time limit. Eighteen bloody minutes he took.” He sighed, throwing his cigarette to the ground with force.

“You and I know there are so many others that deserve to fight, be here, be given this opportunity to brawl against the best more than him; people much more worth watching. He’s just an animal that thinks he’s a superhero because he was blessed with speed.

“We have fighters, heroes armed with steel whips and iron chains, hybrid alien animal things with the ability to summon lightning, bounty hunters who have survived the wrath of literal  _ dragons _ , and now, we have the dragons themselves - aagh, enough said. And I mean, what the hell are  _ you _ meant to be?” He snorted. “A boxer? Goddamn it all, piss off, would you?”

I stared as he swaggered off. He was still in my line of sight, and had taken the southern route across the bridge highway. His steps, medium length strides of entitlement and cockiness. 

Something about that entitled bastard made my blood boil.  _ Don’t. DON’T. _ I wanted to chase him down and beat the living  _ shit _ out of him in his own home, calling me just a regular boxer.

I fucking deserved to be here.

_ Who the hell, who the hell does he think he is that he can say such outlandish things, telling me who  _ I _ am and who  _ I _ am not, and for that matter who one of my best friends is? _

I wanted to punish him. My fist turned white with this boiling fury, at this one entitled bastard who had the nerve, and I wanted to show him what a  _ boxer _ could do to someone he despised so much it had evolved past mere contempt into a bubbling anger that was about to explode.

I really did.

I turned and walked back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST: NEXT CHAPTER I UPLOAD WILL BE UNDER THE 'TEEN' RATING, NOT 'MATURE'. The story isn't as dark yet and to be honest I doubt it will take a turn for the worse until later, plus the term 'teen' is quite all encompassing tbh, and most teens would be able to relate to this story's content :P. Feel free to continue reading regardless though!! Yeah! This is the first 'original' chapter I've released but I've been working super hard on the story's overall plan and direction, plus I beefed up the other old chapters for your viewing desire! I hope you enjoy this as much as I do!
> 
> I hope to start uploading more consistently, once every (1 or 2) weeks. If I do, it'll be on a Saturday between 9-11AM EST from now on!
> 
> Feel free to contact me for anything you have even tho I'm not on AO3 very often! Cheers. But... we now have an instagram @d4_ghostwriter! Follow it for updates on when new chapters are coming out!


	6. Time Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is made from an infinite number of infinitely small moments, so treasure each and every one of them.

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 6: Time Out**

  
  


_[ - Little Mac - ]_

**_( - Within the Sadness | Pokémon Super Mystery Dungeon - )_ **

  
  


I couldn’t focus.

Black numbers in twelve-point Arial font filled my laptop screen. In high school, even though I was good at a lot of subjects, I kinda _hated_ them. Physics was full of confusing different letters that jumbled around in my mind without making any actual sense to the real world. Sometimes, the letters were actually the same but represented different things.

Who the hell came up with that system?

Then, we had music. The time signatures, lines and curvy squiggles to symbolise notes of different length, the ‘keys’, ‘scales’, all of that made me feel _dyslexic_ . And although the books we learned about in English were often interesting and _sometimes_ fascinating, literary techniques thrown around sounded like they were pulled out of my teacher’s ass.

Math, though, was satisfying. Sometimes there were elegant solutions to a complex problem. It was less abstract than physics, less garbled than music, and less made-up like English. Working out and boxing was my life… but if I ever needed cash, I wanted to be able to pick up some sort of side job, specifically tutoring high school math.

I mean, it wouldn’t be too much of a pain in the ass; plus, I kinda liked teaching, so it could net me some cash to stay afloat with.

Twenty to twenty-five for an hour and a bit was solid. New York and Smashville, both being such large cities, were bound to have kids in need of tuition - often, though, this was more like _parents_ needing tuition for their kids. The former market was likely not as big as the latter.

Then, there was the issue of being out of practice. So, when I had off time, like today, if I wasn’t up to standard, I’d practice to refine my skill.

Right now, though, all I could think about was Sonic and that red hoodie piece of shit.

 _Why that asshole would just go up to him and say that is beyond me._ But it wasn’t about his blunt entitlement. It was about the content of his words, the meaning behind his sentences.

 _I hate that he considers us solely entertainers - but… from a commercial perspective…_ No, he wasn’t wrong. Definitely not.

Yet, to have someone tell you what you hate to know and acknowledge…

I hated that.

 _I can’t imagine a life without this, this sport. This is my purpose, and I know that. Does that then mean… that my value is determined_ by _Smash?_ The profound question stuck out in my brain, like a wooden stake in my heart. I couldn’t bear to answer that question.

A squiggly ‘S’ symbol lay plastered flat on my screen. The integral symbol. Following it, the equation after it burned into my brain, but the numbers didn’t make any sense in my head. I kept reading it over. And over. But the question, both questions, remained unanswered, because I couldn’t even think of one without a flash of the other superimposing itself over it, not allowing for a second to pass without solving one.

S, S, S for Sonic.

_No… not another one._

The hedgehog and the memories I had with him, my buddy… Last night, the way Sonic looked on the way home was disturbing. He was smiling, and laughing like normal when we exchanged jokes here and there, but his laughter was less loud and raucous, and his smile was more tense and pulled than natural, and less carefree. No sarcasm, no snark.

The expression Sonic had worn for just a fraction a second, before he waved and said goodbye, was so downtrodden and depressed that it hurt to watch… and even more to remember. Its image, its memory seared into my brain like the mark of a branding iron. I saw, I recall the lines darkly written in the corners of his face, upwards near the outsides of his eyes, the muscles pulling themselves so forcedly that you could see him barely holding himself together, putting on the brave face in front of the others.

But he was losing the battle, and my god he was lucky to have been living the closest to the stadium of all of us, or he would have _lost it_.

 _There was one thing, one thing that Red Hoodie said that sorta resonated with me for all the wrong reasons…_ I remembered it the second I heard that thought.

_“Eighteen bloody minutes he took.”_

_“Where’s the entertainment, or the_ honour _, in the way you play?”_

_“How can you expect to entertain a crowd like that?”_

I shook my head. No, no, no. He had to be wrong. He and his red hoodie, his arrogance, his- just his horribleness, no, he couldn’t be right.

It would be wrong to admit it, to admit that, that…

I _agreed_.

 _Am I a bad friend? Even if I support him, and I love him as a brother, is it wrong to agree with that?_ My bros had called me out before for faults of my own, whether it was being a bit of an ass in socially unacceptable situations or whatever, but, what if the fault was something…

They couldn’t inherently change?

It was almost like, like I was judging him on height, or intellect, or race if animals had those, one of those other things that was uncontrollable by hard work or self-criticism, but dictated by _nature_.

 _What’s the solution here?_ The integral sign once more tauntingly flashed in my vision. I slammed the laptop lid shut. I ran my fingers through my hair, the feeling of the ungelled, freed strands flowing through my hands comforting and distracting. The hands did the work, dancing over my face and closed eyes, feeling the bones and skin and flesh and textures, before clasping themselves over my nose as though in prayer.

I wasn’t even religious.

The black layer of my eyelids was comforting. Black, the black, I tried to make it block out the condensed, pressurized steam bubble of thoughts in my head that just wanted to come out and burst like a catharsis. Time. Time is what I need, and I can’t deal with this now. _I have a match in less than thirty six hours, for god’s sake._

I need a break from all of this. This morning, Jane had texted me, wanting to have a proper catch-up. One thirty, fish and chips shop near her gym.

Right now… I slowly opened my laptop, slightly apologetic for the beating I gave it earlier. A white _10:14_ appeared on the black status bar.

Three damn hours.

 _I need to see someone in real life, in person, or I might just go berserk._

I can’t do this.

  
• • • • •

**_( - Elevator Bossa Nova | Bensound - )_ **

  
  


“Hi, Mac!” Jane got up from her seat.

“Hey, homegirl.” I gave her a quick hug before plopping down in the seat opposite her.

She’d chosen outdoor seats, given it was nice, cool and windy outside. I was already a bit late, so I opened the menu and tried to pick quickly. 

“What’re you ordering?” I stalled.

“Caesar salad with chicken, less mayo,” she spoke proudly.

I laughed. “Of course. Ever the role model for your students.”

“Haha, I guess so. Are you ready, Mac?”

“Yeah, I’ll just grab the, uh… the number seventy-one, the chicken burger with cheese. Are you grabbing any drinks?”

Jane smiled and grabbed a clear plastic bottle from her purse. “Always ready.”

“Man, I shouldn’t even have asked,” I snorted. “I’ll just grab, a, uh…” I flipped the pages of the menu to the very back. Tantalising smoothies and soft drinks grew tempting on the palate even though I wasn’t licking the laminated page.

“Don’t get tempted,” Jane laughed, waggling a finger tauntingly.

“Yeah, y’know what? You’re right. I need to be in tip-top shape for tomorrow night. I’ll, uh, just grab sparkling water then.”

“Do you want to grab a waiter?” She asked.

“Mmh, I guess I can.” I raised a hand.

A bespectacled teenager rushed over hurriedly to meet us. As he looked straight at Jane, his eyes widened. She was wearing a tracksuit and light hoodie, so it was difficult to see her face; plus, her and I were two of the less recognizable faces in Smash. Even turning off Palu’s disguises, we could go out in public and still be fine.

Clearly, though, this kid knew us.

“O-oh my g-god, it’s you!” Thankfully, there were few people around as the adolescent fanboyed over us.

“Li-little Mac!?” His eyes lit up.

Jane, opposite, was a bit uncomfortable, but looked appreciative of his attention.

“Hey, man. It’s me, Little Mac - you can just call me Mac, though. What’s your name?”

The kid looked like he was about to faint.

“R-rup-pert, how ab-bout you?”

Something was off about that sentence. There was a brief silence between the three of us. Suddenly, Rupert’s face contorted into sheer horror and his jaw fell about two inches from his face. He smacked his head in frustration and embarrassment.

Jane laughed, but not unkindly, to break the silence.

“I’m Jane, the Wii Fit Trainer! Nice to meet you.” She offered her hand.

“O-ohhhh, oh my lord, it’s just that I-I’ve been such big fans of y-you guys for like, like years! It’s crazy that you’re right in front of me!! My god, it feels like, like, l-like a dream!” He turned paler, almost as pale as Jane, who laughed again.

“Kid, we’re more or less just people like you are,” I stopped for a second. “I mean, Jane and I are _really_ just common human beings with, eh, _some_ pretty cool abilities and talents.”

“And you’re s-so humble about it, too!” He put his hand fervently to his forehead, beads of sweat beginning to form on his face.

I grinned. “Ah, sheesh, now you’re embarrassing me!” Rupert, the waiter, laughed. His nervous laughter was strangely erratic.

“Oh, jeez, s-sorry about that -M-Mac!”

This felt _so_ good.

Jane and I glanced at each other knowingly, then burst out laughing. Out of the corner of my eye, Rupert desperately scratched his head to stall the situation out.

“Rupert, you need to chill, bro. There’s no need for you to _actually_ apologize for anything - but,” I continued, “would you mind taking our orders?”

Rupert slapped his forehead again.

He seemed to do that a lot.

“Ah, silly m-me. Uh, Jane, what do you- what would y-you like to get?”

“I’ll just grab a Caesar salad, _with less mayo_ ,” she emphasised, winking at me.

I shook my head.

Rupert hastily jotted them down, his long fingers trembling. “And you, Lit- Mac?”

“I’ll grab a seventy-one and uh… one-thirty-two.” He scribbled some letters on his notepad, nodding to himself all the while.

“Uh, thank you so much! W-would you like me to repeat your order?” 

“Nah, Rupert. I trust you, man.” I’d picked that up from somewhere - that phrase seemed to build self-confidence in people. “Plus, we should be thanking you, right?”

“R-right, M-Mac. Th-thanks,” he said regardless, walking off quickly, head in his hands, somehow still carrying the notepad.

“What a nice kid,” I noted.

“He’s barely younger than you.”

I ignored her. “You’re welcome,” I called back.

“Don’t screw with him, he’s nervous enough already,” she giggled.

To my surprise, Rupert came back hurriedly, likely reminded of something. “Uh, M-Mac?”

“Yeah, what’s up bro?” He was still visibly taken aback by the ‘bro’ honorific.

“I forgot t-this earlier… Uh… Oh god, please don’t be offended, but could y-you please sign an autograph for me and my l-little brother?” Horrified at the short silence, he elaborated further, “H-he’s a big fan of you both too.”

“Yeah, we don’t mind,” Jane responded.

“We’re just shocked that we have more than one fan,” I quipped. For the first time, Rupert laughed less anxiously, offering up a serviette and marker simultaneously.

“Th-thank you so much,” Rupert trembled, “it would m-mean the _world_ to James and I. Thank you so much!” Rupert’s enunciation of the final words in his sentence was much clearer and steadier than the entirety of his other prose, and it was pleasant to the ear.

“No problem, Rupert. If you have any new siblings coming out,” he laughed less forcedly at that, “that want more autographs, tell me anytime. I’d be glad to provide.”

“Uh.. yeah!” He smiled, saluting, and walked away with his chest high, much more self-assured than when he came in. Jane’s eyes followed him for a bit until I broke the silence.

“Jane, don’t you think it’s kinda strange to think that we’re, I d’no, celebrities?”

“You’re right, Mac.”

“I mean, whenever we head out to do anything, or grab food, it doesn’t feel like we’re really any different, right? We still do the same things other people do.”

She smiled quietly. “It’s nice in a way. We get to enjoy the feeling of the crowd when it matters, and we can switch it off with little effort after, and go out like normal.”

“Mmh. Y’know, when I was in high school, when I was fifteen and all that, before winning the boxing championships and fame and stuff, me and the guys always went out the same way that we do _now_ …” I paused, “ _but_ \- in between, after winning, things did change a little.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I guess Dante - my best bud at home - stayed the same. But the rest of them… they sorta began to expect me to pay for their food, gym sessions and that. I dunno, but it was like the money changed them. Hell- I’m not even _that_ well off.”

“That’s a shame, Mac.” Jane wore a sympathetic expression on her face.

“Hey, well, that’s just how the cookie crumbles. I don’t miss them too much - plus, I was never really that close to them.” I tried to steer the conversation to a topic more pleasant and positive. “And then, about half to three-quarters of a year later, I got invited to _Tournament 4_.” I grinned. “Good times, hey?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jane agreed, “great times. Don’t think I’ve met as good friends as you guys before.”

“Really? Not even in high school? I mean, I know you’re older than I am… but that can’t have been too long ago.”

“Oh, you can just ask it,” she laughed, “I’m twenty-three if you want to know. And with friends, well, I was the quiet girl in high school. Sorta average looking - not ugly enough to be bullied, not hot enough to be chased, I guess just a… plain Jane.” I snorted lightly.

“Hey, well, that’s changed now, I guess.” I smirked.

Jane’s expression morphed from one of amusement, to mildly surprised, to happy, to questioning, all in the space of a second. She had opened her mouth to speak, but right then, Rupert saved the day. The ambling waiter crossed the room, carrying the food on a wobbling brown tray.

“Here you go, Lit- Mac,” I chortled heavily as Rupert blushed, “and you, Jane.” He set the burger on the table with the salad. Popping the cap of the _Pellegrino_ bottle, Rupert poured its contents into a large, round wine glass. Bubbles fizzed to its surface peacefully as the liquid level rose gradually.

“Thanks, Rupert, that’ll do.”

“No problem, M-Mac.” Rupert did his best to smile graciously.

“You’re getting the idea!” We laughed in unison, as Rupert backed away from the table hurriedly, rushing off to serve another patron.

“Mmh… Well, that’s enough about me,” I started. “Let’s talk about you; how’s the gym been doing?”

“Pretty well - I’ve gotten lots of new customers recently.”

“Yeah, I could tell; I mean, yesterday, we saw all the new Smash-related stuff.”

“I had to get a license for that.” Jane laughed. “I know you live on Universe-D Earth so you wouldn’t know this, but more-or-less Master Hand opened up Smashville a lot more in the last two years,” Jane continued in her same friendly and warm tone, “it’s now open to trading from two more different worlds, and thus a lot of new people have begun checking this place out.

“I’m the one of the only Smashers who live natively in Universe-A Earth, as you know, so fans from all over the place wanted to come pay a visit. Now, some are dedicated customers who live here!” Jane’s smile turned sunny. “It’s amazing to watch these people transform before your eyes, Mac, it really is - it’s not just physical, it’s mental, too!”

I gripped my knife tightly, cutting into the burger. The chicken patty was breaded and fried. The utensil slipped through it without resistance. “I get that, yeah. That must be mind-blowing, but wouldn’t you say that the transition is slow at times? Wouldn’t that make it a bit less noticeable?”

“Sometimes.” She forked some cabbage into her mouth. “The initial transition from overweight, or even obese, to average weight, is a lot quicker than from average to muscular. And that transformation, I think,” Jane paused, “is the most necessary and often the most obvious.”

“Mmh.” The slight taste of the mayonnaise’s fatty sweetness, the saltiness of the cheese and tight, powerful crunch of the chicken mingled, a party on the palate. “Yeah, that’s true. Once you’ve gotten more advanced, it does take time to even see the slightest of gains.”

“You’re right. But you _have_ gotten bigger over the last three years I’ve seen you. Definitely taller than your sixteen-year-old self,” she giggled.

“Thanks, Jane!” I was pleased. Hearing that from any of my friends would’ve made my day, but that was more a… a ‘bro compliment’ - so for a female to have noticed… it was _nice_.

“Anyways… have you heard? They’re introducing a new format for some of the _Ultimate_ tournaments - what do you think of that?”

Jane gave me a puzzled glance. “Oh, really? I haven’t really heard any news, what’s that about?”

In between mouthfuls, I replied, “well, they’re doing something called Squad Strike.”

“Is that the same as doubles?”

“I think they have both of them set for about slightly less than a month from now, gimme a sec.” I grabbed my phone swiping the unlock pattern; an ‘M’, drawn across seven dots, from the bottom right position, ending in a little extra swipe up to trip up anyone who tried to access my sacred device.

“Here, take a look.” I flashed her the overall tournament schedule.

_ ULTIMATE PRELIMINARIES: 13/7 to 21/8. _

_ RESULTS PROCESSING: 21/8 to 22/8. _

_ NON-STOP CASUAL SINGLES: 28/8 to 30/8. _

_ NON-STOP CASUAL DOUBLES: 4/9 to 6/9. _

_ SQUAD STRIKE 5v5: 11/9 to 13/9. _

_ OTHER TOURNAMENTS TBA! _

She nodded, still swallowing a mouthful of salad. “That’s interesting; wait - you never told me what Squad Strike is.”

“Oh, my bad - basically, each team has either three or five members. Each member has one stock; they get to choose orders beforehand, unknown to the other team before the match starts.” I stopped, sipping the carbonated water beside my half-eaten burger. “Once your stock is over, you’re done for the round - it’s up to your other team members to finish off the match. Whichever team has the last stock - or stocks - remaining wins the match.” 

Jane nodded. “Nice! Would you want to form a team if that’s the case?”

“Definitely, I’d be down. Who else would we want?”

“I mean, no point speculating who else we know is going to go with who, but it’d be fun, I guess,” she grinned in between mouthfuls, “so yeah. I think I would want Palutena.”

“Mmh, she’s great, yeah. I mean, I don’t _really_ have projectiles,” Jane smiled at me sympathetically, “so it’s definitely a bonus to have someone with two great zoning tools in case we fight, I don’t know, someone like Link?”

“You’re right about that. She’s not as fast as us, so I guess that’s where _we_ ,” she flashed me a collusive grin, “come in.”

“Hmm. I would want Pit on my team as well, but I heard from Pit that his counterpart - Dark Pit - isn’t likely to be sociable enough to want to join someone else’s team, and I know our Pit’s kind enough to extend an olive branch to him. Like, I mean, we both know the guy,” Jane nodded, “so if we _do_ want him, it’s gonna have to be a package deal.”

“I agree with his line of reasoning with it being ‘the right thing to do’, but I think their playstyles are really similar - wouldn’t that be a weakness?” I drank down the remainder of my sparkling water, before I refilled the glass.

“Mmh. I would normally say so, but both are fairly well-rounded, so I wouldn’t _really_ say it’s too bad.”

“Also,” I stopped, cutting a slice of chicken off, “how is Ian these days? I mean, I didn’t realise this before, but I haven’t seen him as of late. Why don’t we take him, what about him?”

“What _about_ Ian?” Jane said in a low, biting tone.

It was almost like she had been holding a smile in one hand, a frown in the other, and in that second swapped them like nothing even happened.

“Uhm, is he still in Smash?”

“He would be.” Jane’s tone was curt and firm. “But he isn’t participating anymore. He’s left.”

The way she spoke, it was as though she was going to add something else, other words, but chose purposely to omit it.

I didn’t like that.

“Mmh… okay,” I said carefully, trying to change the topic. Something wasn’t right. “What do you think about Sonic?” The small amount of burger, lettuce and mayonnaise chicken that remained on the plate suddenly looked a little less appetising.

“Good addition to the team.” Her expression remained shadowy and dark. “And he’s fast.” Jane’s lips were set firmly in a neutral line, and I _knew_ then I touched a raw nerve.

“Yeah. That’s true.” No point keeping a dead conversation alive. I didn’t even know how.

I stabbed at the singular strand of green on my plate, shoving it into my mouth. Jane did the same, poking absentmindedly at the last crouton remaining in the salad bowl, having finished all her chicken. She quietly sealed her water bottle, the logo _VAÀND_ with its mesmerising golden outlines and white colouring and elegant typeface seared into the skin of my brain as I stared straight ahead. A clang, the clang of her metal cutlery on the cold ceramic, startled me.

It wasn’t even that loud.

“It was nice to see you today, Mac.” She flashed me a smile, getting up from her seat with a dragging noise, but it wasn’t the same. A kind, forgiving, yet fractured, smile. “Good to catch up.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” I forced a quiet, drawn laugh. Jane chuckled dryly, the sound hardened and cracking. “Aight, well…” She thrust two red tens on the table, pointing to the door hurriedly. “I guess I’ll head out. I have some accounting work to do, and bills to clear.”

“Uh… yeah. Stay safe, Jane. Call me - if you need anything.”

“I will.” Without another word, the fitness trainer walked out in her light blue tracksuit, her purse over her left shoulder. The frame of her body, like a piece of art refined over the years of working out and yoga, stood tall, yet there was a definite uncertainty within it.

The jingle of bells against the glass of the door resounded. Then, Jane was gone.

As I sat there, sipping the last fraction of the sparkling water, the gas in the drink having completely fizzled out, I felt the acid from the leftover carbonation sting in my mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now have an instagram @d4_ghostwriter! Follow it for updates on when new chapters are coming out!


	7. Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it’s not about having someone solve your problems for you, but about knowing they’re on your side, fighting in your corner, and would be there for you if anything happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, I know this is 12 hours earlier than anticipated but I realised that most people read at around this time! Cheers and enjoy! Lots more character involvement in this one.

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 7: Calm Before The Storm**

  
  


_ [ - Little Mac - ] _

  
  


The stress was killing me.

Everything seemed to be building up - between my friends’ problems and the upcoming matches I really, really didn’t know where else I could go without being bothered by something new, and I couldn’t take it.

_ Outsource help whenever it becomes too much for you to handle on your own. _ Doc’s words reverberated around in my head. But he was long gone.

So before I could stop myself, I opened my phone and started texting.

_ Can you come over for a bit? _

_ When? _

_ Now lol _

_ That’s… sudden. _

_ But if it helps you, I don’t mind. _

I waited.

  
• • • • •

**_( - National Park | Pokémon Heartgold and Soulsilver - )_ **

  
  


“Mac, are you alright?” Palu strode into the room, wearing a beige dress that reached her knees. Her tone was much quieter and gentle, with much less of her usual exuberance.

I think she could tell I wasn’t handling… well, life very well.

“Heya. Why don’t you come in, first off?”

“Alright.” She shrugged off her leather sandals. As she entered, I moved to close the door behind her, making a gentle shutting sound. “Is… there something wrong, Mac?”

She was poking me with the proverbial stick.

“Yeah. I guess there is.” I snorted humorlessly. I paused, not quite sure how to initiate. “Thanks for coming by yourself on such short notice, by the way.”

Palu sat down on the couch, her posture leaning forward and active.

“You have me available anytime, Mac.” She slapped my knee gently, and looked me in the eye. “You can say anything you want here.”

“Man, am I grateful to have you as my best friend.” I grinned, punching her shoulder lightly, although it felt more, say,  _ obligatory _ , to punctuate the end of the sentence.

Something twitched below her eye.

“Yeah,” Palu glanced down at her feet for a second. “So, uh, why don’t you go on?”

“Remember Sonic’s thing on Wednesday? Where that random son of a bitch went up to him and said all that?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I think you probably figured it out but I went to go and confront him,” judging by the look on Palutena’s face, she was neither displeased nor pleased, and even less so surprised, “more or less, well, he said some things that were kinda striking.

“I don’t know whether these were, were his  _ exact _ words but essentially it was, it was like,” I paused, wondering how to phrase it, “Sonic’s playstyle was overly defensive and there’s no way to entertain a crowd doing that. Look, I’m not really affected by that - I mean, that’s not it, though; it was that… we’re brought here, from all these different pockets of the universe, to fight, and if we can’t do it well, if we can’t fight to the best of our abilities and perform, to create the ‘maximum amount’ of entertainment for our fans… then what, what  _ are  _ we?

“Like Sonic, my man, he’s undeniably fast and agile to boot. I never thought of it like this… but that asshole - shit, it  _ pains _ me to say it - but he’s right. It’s not the most fun to watch - the only people remotely close to his speed are Falcon, perhaps Samus and I; and Sonic, he’s like a brother to me, and he is an amazing guy, and he wants to entertain a crowd, and ham it up, and have everyone have a great time.

“ ‘ _ Sonic didn’t deserve to be here,’ _ ” I said, in air quotation marks. “That was one of the other things he said. I disagree with that so much, knowing who he is and all… But he’s bad at the thing he wants to do - to be a crowd pleaser - despite it being optimal play for him - how, how can, how  _ do _ we deal with that? Sucking at the very thing you’re destined to do just… well, it  _ sucks _ , doesn’t it?

“And what’s more… this, this is how we’re known to everyone in this universe. Back home… Sonic has a few friends, to say the least. I have one or two real ones - and at least not everyone watches boxing in New York. It’s popular, but I can go out without being noticed. That’s true here, too, being a human amongst gods and heroes… but, yet, I feel  _ naked _ when I set one foot outside the door.

“Is our worth, just, determined by this?” I buried my face in my hands. “Palu… Can you answer those questions? And for the first bit, about Sonic, as a friend… is it wrong for me to not support that?”

Her arm crept around my shoulder affectionately.

I heard only her long inhale of breath.

“I think you’re going about it like you always do, Mac. You bear a disproportionate amount of the guilt, and you don’t deserve that. I mean, you’ve criticised my and Pit’s game before - so why is it different for Sonic?”

It was rhetorical, but I needed to speak. “Y-you saw him, right? After it all?” Palu nodded gravely. “He looked so down and depressed, but no one knew what to say. That was painful for me to watch, Palu. You know how important I think friendship is, because we’re in this foreign world and  _ no-one else _ will stand up for us - when everything else fails, even if I don’t get his struggle, I have to be there for him, stand beside him.

“And I couldn’t do that, because if he looked me in the eye and asked me truthfully, there’s no way I would have been able to lie to his face.” I anxiously, repeatedly bit my lower lip, something to distract me as she sat there in silence.

Her face betrayed nothing. Completely neutral, but the look in her eyes was tumultuous. It was as though she too was affected by it, and she too was processing it, trying to get her whole hand around the problem to crush it from the outside. I stared, shallowly, into them, detached from the entire situation, just needing something to focus on to keep the onslaught of thoughts from rushing me down.

I wrinkled my hand, stroking the air, so the moment felt a little more real.

In that brief moment, I abruptly felt  _ changed _ .

I felt less alone, but more afraid - afraid to lose  _ Palu _ , the woman in front of me right now, afraid to lose what I had just gained - the feeling of safety and comfort by having someone there with me. It was the last wall of defense from me spiralling out of control - from the chaos in the world past those cold apartment doors with the tension of matches and and the conflict of having to live up to the expectations of others, to the deafening, lonely, empty, hollow dread that hid behind them - I couldn’t run away from either without facing the other, and even then there was nothing for me to confront. No opponent for me to defeat, because the battle was all representative, symbolic, metaphorical; all  _ inside _ rather than physical, or outside; and it was as though there was only one thing, a last bastion, a dam to stop the high tide from haphazardly destroying everything in its wake.

Her.

Suddenly, in those precious gems, in her eyes, the doorway to her soul, something shifted tersely, fricatively in them, and then they locked with me, black with wisps of green smoke coming off them suddenly clashing on the black of mine own.

She was staring straight at me.

“That’s… that’s a hard one.”

We both chuckled.

“It’s not just about criticising his game… That’s on the physical level. It’s more about friendship, isn’t it.” I nodded.

“As a friend, your first duty is to take care of them in a situation like this. It’s not about what the facts are - as a goddess, I see it all the time. Our logical sides are dominated by our emotional sides as much as we want to believe the opposite.

“When they’re feeling ready for it, that’s when we look for solutions. This applies to Sonic, too. The playstyle thing is something we can work on; it’s not just about defensive or offensive - you and I know it’s much more nuanced than that. The fans don’t really get that. But that’s for later.” Palu flashed me a smile, trying to gage my reaction.

I reciprocated as her words began forming in my head.

“And lastly… your self-worth. It wasn’t  _ just _ about him, was it?” I shook my head slowly.

Palu giggled lightly. “You can’t hide anything from me.” 

She cleared her throat, becoming more serious again. “I understand that we’re performers when it comes down to it… but really, why does what the crowd say, or think, matter? Smash is your life, Mac, and I know - we know - you love it. I’ve seen you train, and I know it better than anyone else does.” She lowered her gaze, putting her hand on my chest.

Then, I felt it beat, gently, but consistently.

“But Smash… it’s a goal of yours. Who are  _ you _ , Mac? You don’t have a Smash game more than once every week, or every day. It’s a focus and your passion… but you’re a person with the virtue of being the best friend anyone could  _ ever _ want, strong values and determination, Mac - even on the days that you lose. That’s why I,” her voice faltered, “love you so dearly.”

She picked it up again, albeit quickly.

“And if you want to still take the crowds’ opinions into account… believe it or not, Mac, you have loyal, dedicated fans that enjoy your plays and cheer for you even when you lose and would kill to even have a photo, or an autograph, or other memorabilia… if it was from you.”

Rupert’s pimply, enthusiastic adolescent face flashed across my mind.

“They really want to meet you, Mac. You don’t have the flashiest playstyle, or the biggest reputation that precedes you, and you aren’t a beautiful woman like me,” she grinned, “so your fans… I think your fans would have to be the most dedicated fans out of all the Smashers we know.

“They’d definitely want to get to know you.”

_ I’m who I am first - they… don’t know me? They don’t know who I am, and I’m more than just a Smasher. _

I’m more than just a Smasher.

_ And… I have fans? They want to meet me, they, they… do. _

“It’s funny, ain’t it.” The black of my eyelids turned to darkish yellow, with the sun paying us a visit, warming the covers of my sight.

“What-what do you mean?”

“I feel vulnerable, and insecure as a famous figure, and initially thought that was my  _ everything. _ Yet at the same time, it feels absurd that I have fans.”

She snorted, though not unkindly. “Yeah. You’re not wrong about that - I don’t feel the same way, because as a goddess - it’s always really been like that for me. Whereas for you, you were just a boy who boxed, albeit very well, a few years back and well, look at you now!”

“Mmh. Yeah.”

I paused, allowing the words entry, a disgruntled dragon prohibiting access to a sacred treasure. It was hard to process, as every time I thought of something, I forgot the previous thought as it felt all too absurd and surreal to fully allow in and accept as a fact. The stroke of my fingers on my face, the tactile touch of skin upon skin, it interfered with the vehicles of thought that collided with each other sometimes unknowingly, sometimes knowingly, and for that, I decided I would need more time to come to terms with this. My hands let themselves down, a drawbridge for a king.

The eyes opened.

The first thing I felt was the presence of her face, turning from mild and gentle to angsty and concerned. The moment was memorable, the negative of the shadow perfectly balancing the positive of the curves, and there was something satisfying about it all, especially in the eyes, her magnetic eyes...

“Do you… did that, did that help at all?”

“That… helped a lot. It did.” I nodded, slowly. “Thanks, Palu.”

“Never a problem, Mac. I’m here for you whenever you need.”

There was no need for words right then. I rose up, gradually, so there was no sound of the padding bouncing back out on itself, and stood on my own two feet. I gingerly offered Palu my roughened, calloused hand.

She grasped it firmly, her soft, slightly cold fingers therapeutic to the touch; and as she wrapped their figures around mine, she pulled on it gently, just a tad bit, with the perfect amount of effort to stand.

Her slim, full form stood tall, although she no longer towered above me like before, her height was still proud and strong in its own way.

“We haven’t been this close for a very, very long time,” she said, laughing, “in both senses of the word.”

“You’re right.”

“Mac, you’ve grown so much in the last three years. No one can call you ‘little’ anymore rightfully.” Without her heels, she stood almost exactly as tall as I. “Bigger, and stronger, too,” she continued, with the smallest hint of a smirk.

“Thanks, Palu.” It didn’t seem appealing to start talking about Jane and how she mentioned the same thing, especially given how that conversation ended yesterday. Although it was one of the things I’d initially wanted to talk about, the moment wasn’t…

It didn’t feel right.

“I’m just telling you how I see it, Mac.”

“Mmh. Still the same amount of ugly, hey?”

“Same amount of handsome, too.”

Without giving me a chance to think on it, she gravitated towards me a little, and I put my arms around her, bringing her into a tight, tender,  _ vulnerable _ embrace. She brought her arms around my back tightly, stroking my back harmonically. Compared to before, rushed and a bit awkward, the contact against her body this time…

It felt much more…  _ complete _ .

It was much warmer, much longer, much deeper.

It felt just right, to push tighter, right before it became uncomfortable or crushing.

“I’m so grateful to have you.”

“ _ I know _ you’d do the same for me.”

It seemed right to end it right there, and as she retreated calmly, with all of her regal elegance, we both laughed lightly, at the situation. She smiled warmly.

“It’s only about three in the afternoon, we’ve got time. D’you want to stay a bit longer? This flat can take two better than one.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Neither do I.”

  
• • • • •

**_( - Cianwood City | Pokémon Heartgold and Soulsilver - )_ **

  
  


Even after that, there was one problem still left on my plate. Jane wasn’t there.

She was always here for my matches in  _ Tournament 4. _

_ Ian. _

The guy had always been a good sport to us. We’d never really been close, but at group outings he would  _ sometimes _ turn up, and was another friendly face who cracked jokes and hung out. In a sense, it was weird how ‘detached’ he was from the rest of us - Falcon, R.O.B., Sonic, Palu, Pit and I, we only really knew him through Jane. It was strange because, even though Palutena technically was Pit’s boss, they both were still fully  _ present _ in the group.

I guess there was something that didn’t work between them, and well, there we were.

“Mac?” Falcon’s voice found its way into my ear.

“What’s up, Cap’n?”

“Y’seemed real zoned out.” We were standing together at the end of the railing; Palutena, Pit, R.O.B. and Sonic were deep in conversation on the other end in a cluster of four. The scintillating crimson of the sky looked so infinitely deep that I just wanted to swim in it, to feel it instead of watch it.

I wanted to get out of my own skin for a while.

“Just… thinking about the match.” That wasn’t untrue. Those two things battled for office space in my head, each fighting to pay the lesser share of the ever-rising rent.

“Y’want some tips? After all, back in the  _ Melee _ tournament, ‘ah was told to show Ganondorf the ropes. No one else wanted to go near ‘im, after all.”

“Whoa, really?”

“Y’mean y’never noticed?” The Falcon seemed more amused than offended. “Take a look at his Wizard’s Foot, or Warlock Punch. Don’t tell me that don’t ring a bell in yer head.”

It took me a second to understand what the Captain was referencing.

“Oh, damn! It’s like your, uh, Falcon Kick and Falcon Punch, isn’t it?”

The falcon insignia bobbed up and down.

“Right on, Mac,” he started. “Y’see, Ganondorf is a lot larger than you or I. He’s about, give or take,” Falcon animatedly gesticulated with his hands, “seven to eight feet tall. A legitimately terrifying beast to fight, and y’don’t see that ‘till you’re real up close.

“His special moves are all s’milar t’mine,” he stated, “except for that Flame Choke. That thing is  _ bloody _ dangerous and scary, and if ‘e grabs you with it, you’ll be on the ground. Truth be told, you’ll want to avoid that at all costs. Watch ‘is wrists, they start to get real steamy and purple before he goes for it, and it’s not  _ that _ fast, so ye’ll be able to avoid it if yer alert enough.”

I nodded. “Is there anything else he’s gonna be searching for?”

“There’s this ‘signature’ move o’ mine - well, not a lot o’ others try it, where I’ll jump up,” he responded, demonstrating a slower version with his feet, “and I’ll kick once, then twice. Can’t do it ‘ere, because the gravity ‘ere is too strong.” He and I chuckled.

“But ye, Ganondorf isn’t as slow as all them others are sayin’, but compared tuh you, ‘e is  _ slow _ . I mean, most of ‘is other moves all ‘er slow; at least that  _ first _ kick, most o’ the time, it ain’t powerful because it ain’t need to snap back, but it’s  _ damn _ quick. I taught ‘im it, after all. Ye’ll be too stunned to block the second one if ‘e aims that thing right.”

“Mmh. What about his general playstyle?”

“Ganondorf… it’s a toughie. Sword attacks ‘re all lethal. And all those silly old farts, those pen-pushers and ‘experts’,” Falcon emphasised that in air quotation marks, “say he oughtta stay to the bait ‘n punish style, ‘coz he’s slow and that, but in personality, ‘e’s aggressive. ‘E wants to beat ye down - ‘e’s domineerin’ and a monster,” he continued, “and that’s the thing. It shouldn’t work, but sometimes it  _ does _ .”

“What those ‘analysts’, or whatever they call themselves, don’t unnerstand that there’s that psychological effect of sorts. ‘E’s a big dude. He’s tough, ‘e’s scary. And now, he wields a massive sword that  _ kills _ . It  _ kills _ , Mac, and people screw up jus’ ‘coz of that. If you can get above that,” he jabbed me in the chest. “You can win against him, Mac. Three-stock ‘im, even.”

“You really reckon I could pull that off?”

“I get ye ain’t the best in the air, Mac, but throw ‘im off the level. Use that Jolt Haymaker o’ yours.” Falcon nodded, seemingly at his own comment. “Do whatever; I mean, ‘e ain’t as slow as most people think, but he definitely  _ is _ slower than ya, and ‘is recovery is, I’d say, a lot  _ worse _ than yours, so ye got it, son. Just play it natural.”

“Thanks, Falcon.”

“Never a problem, Mac. I’ll tell ya somethin’ real quick,” he said, collusively grinning. “Ye always reminded me a li’l bit of my nephew back in Mute City.”

“Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow. “Wow, I never knew you had a nephew.”

“Sister’s son. I love my girl, but she got with a  _ bad _ dude - I had no idea ‘bout all this until she finally left ‘im. Son was still young, and grew up to be a fine man, takin’ care ‘o his momma,” the Captain stoically looked off into the sunset, averting his gaze, “and, well, that’s all there is to it.”

“That’s… unfortunate, Cap’n. It really is. At least, though,” I flipped my stare, “he’s got a good male role model to look up to.”

“That means a lot, Mac, thank yah.”

I left the conversation there. It seemed fitting.

We stood there in silence, Falcon crossing his arms over the aluminum post, staring out into the open sea, the chirp of a few birds echoing off seemingly nothing. Wind coolly touched my shoulder, the lingering feeling that held on held like the touch of a familiar friend, gentle and welcome but without formality, without the same uncomfortable and nervous way one might treat their acquaintances or guests. The great big ball of fire in the sky had descended just low enough to touch the sea, a hearty greeting, perhaps a ‘good evening’ of sorts between the two biggest forces of the world.

“I’ll leave ye alone, Mac. I know ya got a lot on yer mind.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that, Falc.”

“Adiós.” He strode off to meet the others.

The image of Palutena today reverberated in the cold black chamber of my closed eyelids. The recollection gave me some strength, some power, and some confidence. Her face, the knowledge of it, the feeling of her being with me took away the feeling of lonesomeness. Even when I would be on the stage, fighting to my heart’s content tonight, I would be supported somehow - she would be there to stave off the loneliness and dread, and I would be able to focus fully on the opponent against me.

As I stood there, slowly opening my eyes to the darkening background of gorgeous, aging violet, I felt contentment.

_ Let’s do this. _

  
• • • • •

**_( - Route 119 Theme | Pokémon Ruby and Sapphire - )_ **

  
  


I was alone in the waiting room.

Normally, it would have been a painful, anxiety-inducing experience, especially being the final, anchor round.  _ Hey, Sonic, did you know that the main stadium can seat over twelve thousand people? _ Pit’s voice echoed in my head, and the numbers stuck themselves firmly into my head. 

Not being able to stay still, twiddling my thumbs, I chose to nap on the bed they provided for a bit, getting myself some rest before the main event.

At about  _ t - 30  _ minutes, I had begun to warm up. Some pushups, some dynamic stretches, and now it was time for the final exercise.

One, two, three, four; two, two, three, four.

Jumping jacks. Hands down, legs apart; then, hands up, feet together, the two positions interchanging themselves in split seconds.

Three, two, three, four; four, two, three, four.

I just kept going.

Five, two, three, four; six, two, three, four.

No thoughts running through, just focussing on the numbers pulsing through my brain.

Seven, two, three, four; eight, two, three, four.

Until they would call me. “Mac.”

Nine, two, three, four; ten, two, three, four.

Until they called me. “Mac!”

Eleven, two, three, four; twelve, two, three, four.

“Mac!” Jared’s voice rang out, muffled by the door. I unlocked it, and let the bespectacled man in. “It’s time, man, please,  _ please _ don’t be late. I’d get fired, man, and I have a mortgage.”

He was always a friendly face before the matches’ occurrence. “Aight, sorry Jared; you’re right, let’s go.”

The slim, short brunette led me down the narrow chamber-ish hallway, with white walls and blue painted floors, offices few and far between on either side. After a short walk through the maze, Jared brought me to the two rooms, one room glowed red, the other blue. 

The room was made of a translucent glass, with a large enigmatic, mysterious silver lock on each of the double doors sealing them together. The outside was dark, so the contrast of the cyan- and red-lit rooms held their own grandeur. The blue room right beside the maroon had already been locked - the one undoubtedly already containing Ganondorf.

From behind the doors, I heard the faint noise from the sound system, of the sweaty fire of the twelve-thousand people in the crowd, and all I thought about was the quarter-hundred thousand eyes and ears that would be focussed on me and my opponent. That was the only sound, outside the rush of the flowing air conditioning, in the atmosphere.

Jared fumbled for his keys. “I believe in you, but good luck, man.” He shoved a key underneath the lock, twisting it strangely twice in different directions. It opened to reveal a black electronic keypad with white backlit numbers, arranged in rows and columns of three. All that served to do was intensify the tension, the gravity of the situation.

“You’re going to need it - Ganondorf  _ is _ tough,” he admitted, punching in a long series of numbers. “Mmh.” The double glass doors parted once more. 

“Alright… uh, I hate to bore you, and you’ve heard this so many times, but it’s due process,” Jared sighed, “again, I’m not allowed in there, and once you go in, you’re not allowed back out.”

I gazed into the room, slightly chilly in my black singlet.

“Your match should start in three minutes, so be ready; when the red LEDs above the screen tell you to go,  _ go _ , and step on the plate. Stay focussed man, and yeah, that’s it. So, uh… are you ready to go in?”

“Yeah.” I stepped beyond the doors.

“You’ll be fine man,” he said, giving me a grin. “See you, Mac. Best of luck.”

**_( - 离开以后 (After Leaving) | 张学友 (Jacky Cheung) - )_ **

With that, Jared left. I was alone. There was a beeping sound of the electronic pad locking, then the silver physical lock. The air was coloured a disconcerting red for fighter number one. I sat down on the comforting cushion. On the table in front, which doubled as a trash can with an elegant white-on-black marble finish, there was a singular bottle of water. Luxuriously, little bumps on the surface of the plastic bottle rubbed against my fingers.

The only other thing in the room was the TV screen, with a small, compact speaker system and the warp pad. On-screen, Hero battled bravely against Decidueye, the owl Pokémon from Alola. Despite being on his final stock, the Luminary continued to play offensively, pushing back with fast flurries of sword slashes. 

Having been pressured, the Pokémon quickly grabbed his opponent and slammed him into the stage, throwing him back. To follow up, Decidueye nocked an arrow to his ‘bow’. As Hero got up once more - looking like death himself - the crowd went wild. For a brief moment, he hesitated.

That was all it took for the ruthless nocturnal archer to fire straight into the young man’s chest, and he flew off, a brilliant beam of light penetrating the screen, illuminating Decidueye’s severe, hawkish features. He bowed elegantly to the rising draught of the crowd. The announcer’s voice boomed omnipresently from the speakers.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THAT’S GAME!”

There was a second screen above the TV with instructions. In little beady lights, it spelled out an instruction.  _ PLEASE STEP ONTO THE WARP PAD. _

I took a final drink of water, sealing the water bottle.

“THANK YOU, DECIDUEYE AND THE LUMINARY - THEY’VE DONE AMAZING WORK TONIGHT OUT ON THE BATTLEFIELD!”

I stared at the form of the water bottle for a second, trying to compose myself.

“THAT’S OUR SECOND-TO-LAST BATTLE FINISHED FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL FRIDAY EVENING!”

I closed my eyes, remembering Palu’s face with me, and everyone else’s too.

“YOU’VE BEEN AN AMAZING AUDIENCE SO FAR!”

Pit’s cheerful grin.

“WHAT A TIME IT’S BEEN - WE’VE HAD SOME UPSETS-”

Falcon’s fatherly advice.

“-THE CHAMPION OF TWO DIMENSIONS ABSOLUTELY DESTROYING-” 

R.O.B.’s warm friendship.

“-THE YOUNG LION, ROY-”

Jane’s encouraging smile.

“-AND THE FIRECRACKER-SIZED SWORDSMAN, META KNIGHT-”

Sonic’s smartass wisecracks and the wrong that had been done against him.

“-WINNING AGAINST LINK!”

The image of his face burned into my head.  _ Let’s do this for him - do this to prove that asshole wrong, to prove that I am significant - that  _ we _ are significant. _

“IT’S BEEN A WILD NIGHT!” 

I opened my eyes. The red LEDs above the main TV screen buzzed a red  _ 10 _ .

_ 9. _

I strode toward the warp pad, inhaling.

_ 8. _

“NOW, FOR OUR FINAL,”

_ 7. _

I planted my feet on the radiant red tile.  _ Whoosh. _

_ 6. _

“-AND MAIN EVENT-” I exhaled.

_ 5. _

“-IT’S TIME FOR-”

_ 4. _

“-THE KING OF DARKNESS, GANONDORF-”

_ 3. _

“-VERSUS-”

_ 2. _

“-THE BRUISER FROM THE BRONX-”

_ 1. _

“- _ LITTLE _ MAC!”

_ WARP PAD ACTIVATED. _

With that, it went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird choice of music, I get that hahaha, but I grew up listening to a lot of Cantonese and Mandarin pop from the 70-90s, and I thought Jacky Cheung's piece was quite fitting for the moment which is why I chose it. :) I hope this introduces y'all to a new genre of music that you like! It's an absolute jam even if you don't understand it all.
> 
> We now have an instagram @d4_ghostwriter! Follow it for updates on when new chapters are coming out! Most of the time I'll do it around 9-11pm EST friday but if I have more chapters spare I might pop one in on tuesday, same time ;)


	8. Leaving Your Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flower of success blooms from the seed of failure.

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 8: Leaving Your Mark**

  
  


_ [ - Little Mac - ] _

**_( - Mega Man 2 Medley | Super Smash Bros. Ultimate - )_ **

  
  


Little sparks of fire erupted from the machines, as the unknown man’s voice screamed, louder than ever. “THREE!”

“TWO!” Mind went blank, trying to recall Falcon’s advice.

“ONE!” The vision returned. Ganondorf stood seven feet tall opposite me.

“GO!”

A fuse split and sparks burst. Ganondorf rocketed forward, feet extended. The pretty purple smoke eroded in the air.

I side-stepped briefly, not wanting to get hit by the monstrous attack.

He stopped right behind me.

I snapped a  _ one _ ,  _ two _ -hit punch at the beast. He growled, guarding his face from both.

_ Again. _

This time, he let his guard down too quickly, and both hits connected with a satisfying thwack.

Right to the face.

He shouted in surprise, falling to the main platform below. I rolled off the top plateau, meeting him. “LITTLE MAC DRAWS FIRST BLOOD AGAINST THE DEMON KING!” The crowd exploded in cheering, and my ear went hot with passion.  _ It’s just starting. _

I faced him again. He faced me back. Unfazed by the punch, he ran forward with surprising speed. I put my guard up, preparing for a strike, but instead, Ganondorf’s hand popped out and snapped onto my arm.

My wrist felt like it was breaking.

The floor, with all the rainbow coloured lights running through it, rushed up to me. It knocked the wind out, and I gasped for breath, already in the air.

A flash of vision came back, and the demon king grinned fiendishly. He leapt up, and one wicked knee slammed into my chest, then the second. _THUD._ _THUD._

The pain shot through to my head, igniting a nerve, and fear swept through me.

No more.

I shot my arms behind me as I reached the ground, swinging my feet up to get back on my two legs, ready to catch the next attack. I would be on my guard.

_ It’ll take more than that. _

For a second, Ganondorf stood in front of me. Far enough for me to react to a sudden movement, but not close enough for me to strike. The stadium with its thousands of people turned to the background; I only heard my breathing, because I only wanted to focus on it.

“TWO STRIKES FROM EACH OF THESE FIGHTERS! LOOK AT THE WAY THEY LOCK EYES, IN THIS INTENSE STANDOFF…” I opened the bubble, for just a second, to hear the commentator’s voice speak out. Something changed in that second, and suddenly, the man beast rushed forward. He jumped high, with an aerial overarm strike.

My hands flew up instinctively. Blood shot through my body, stone cold, as they met. 

_ Retaliate. _

In a second, I swept down, up, then slammed my right fist into his chin, fully compact, tense and furious. A ghoulish cry escaped his lips, before it was drowned out by the fanfare, the cheers.

Sudden comfort rose to the surface, and it was as though I was at home again. Their faces danced to the tune of their own ritual in my head, willing me forward.

_ This time WILL be different. _ He flew into the air, legs over his head, somersaulting onto the above platform.

I couldn’t see through it. I had no idea where he was. But, he was above me.

_ Rising Uppercut! _ Pit’s voice echoed, from that very same training session.

It felt right.

High-risk, high-reward. I spun upwards, and my fists met flesh, leather, armor, and he was at the tip of my knuckle. I saw the sky, the powerful beat of the night sky, and Ganondorf’s face obscured it for just a second, shouting in surprise. I tucked into a ball, and everything was silently screaming at me, trying to catch my fall safely.

“THE ULTIMATE UNDERDOG IS LEADING THE MATCH BY A CONSIDERABLE MARGIN OVER THE DEMON KING!”

I was in his head.

I was  _ in _ his head.

_ I’m finally pulling it off. _ I heard it more than I thought it. The speed of falling paralysed my legs together for a brief moment before I was on again.

Dropping through the top platform, Ganondorf’s face betrayed his frustration. No doubt I would incur his wrath; he would be more impatient, play more risky, fish for stronger moves.

Then, I would win.

My adversary abruptly turned around, marching backwards away from me.

_ Do it. _

It didn’t cross my mind, until I felt my right fist burst into a beautiful blue blaze, a dazzling colour, my feet left the ground, and my eyes set dead on his back, my target, that it might be just bait.

I yelled out, swinging my arm at the apex of the jump. Someone in the crowd gasped.

But I hadn’t spaced it properly.

I stopped, well short of him, and I saw his foot come down from an incredible, one-hundred-eighty degree stretch, and snap closed.

All of a sudden, I was on my back, facing the dreadful omnipresence of God again.

I remembered that he was still below me.

He was  _ below me. _

I got up abruptly to jump, but instead screamed.

My neck, my neck; it had pulled itself suddenly, from that Volcano Kick; my head couldn’t move properly - it was stuck.

Swinging his brown hand below the platform, Ganondorf grabbed onto my ankle.

_ FUCK. _

My vision watched his face as I was being spun violently, in the spin cycle of a vicious, nightmarish merry-go-round ride with plastic, murderous horses painted in blood, morph from a ghastly smile to a grimace of effort, and suddenly he disappeared. I saw the pretty colours of the sky, the blast zone, a girl in the crowd, a trace of Ganondorf’s maroon hair, and heard the announcer scream some incoherent French nonsense. It was barely audible over the fiery eruption of the crowd.

My legs stopped flying over my head, and I watched Final Destination again. The dark, deathly spikes underneath it, powered by a threatening jet engine, the lights, and my opponent staring me down right as I fell. The lights flashed a bright forest green, morphing to teal.

_ Trust your training. Jolt Haymaker first. _

Just like before, like all those times before, with Jane, Pit and Palu, in the gym testing it out again and again until I got it every single time, I did it. My muscles exploded in a rage, my neck even tighter and the pain more cancerous, like a grotesque green growth, than before, and I felt the cerulean flames more than I saw them, the sound of it eating at, consuming the leather glove wrapped around my knuckles a propulsion forward.

_ Trust your training. You know when you can jump. GO. _

I waited, the crowd filling in the gaps for me, hearing the announcer say something I couldn’t make out, ironically, and felt my legs push off something  _ solid _ .

No more panic, no more fear. I was getting there.

_ Trust your training. Rising Uppercut. _

My legs shot out under me, and I had to close my eyes to avoid the dizzying of the spin, the moment-long black dulling my senses. A moment of calm, before I felt the familiar stretch on the brachioradialis muscle and phalange tendons, the opening of my palm, the pull of my one arm singlehandedly withstanding the mass of my bodyweight, stopping it from dropping like a thick, dense weight to the blast zone.

I was close enough. I had made it. Surprised gasps went up from the mob.

_ No one is calling my recovery bad tonight, no, I won’t give them the  _ fucking _ chance. _

The image of R.O.B. getting ledge-trumped, dropped off and smacked away brutally from the stage flipped itself, a steel mirror of hard realism in my head.

I wouldn’t make the same mistake.

I pulled myself up quickly, flipping over in the air with a somersault to get a better perspective of the stage.

_ Where is he? _

I scanned the area, seeing past the levitating platforms, the multicoloured volcanic lines eroding the surface of the stage, the burning hot enthusiasm of fans and spectators. Time slowed, as I caught a glance of the same pretty brunette woman in the crowd that I’d seen at Centiskorch’s on that Saturday.

I remembered, then, that she was Palu in disguise.

My heart dropped.

Immediately as the pit of my chest imploded in on itself from the pressure, the overpowering aroma of a dark, smoky incense haphazardly burned from right under my nose, and I glanced down in an instinctually hot panic; Ganondorf’s hand was outstretched, toxic purple gas firing from his armored wrists.

My neck spasmed as he grabbed it, squeezing until it almost  _ broke _ .

I was on the verge of death.

Smelling the noxious fumes made me giddy. White spots punctuated every corner of my vision, and I was losing my focus. I was losing my  _ consciousness _ . It grew thicker and more pungent, and I couldn’t see past it, but I felt like I was dropping, my heart consumed by its own fears. The adrenalin weakened my knees. I couldn’t move.

I was falling.

_ ‘That thing is bloody dangerous and scary, and you’ll want to avoid it at all costs.’ _

Ganondorf dived down to the bottomless pit of the blast zone, carrying me with him.

  
• • • • •

_ [ - Palutena - ] _

**_( - Corneria - Star Fox | Super Smash Bros. Ultimate - )_ **

  
  


The first round of the match had just gone by.

Twin beams of white light, specked with bits of red, blue and purple intermingling flew in coordination with the sparks. Screams erupted from the group of sickeningly scantily-clad women in front of us, waving plastic signs about and big foam index fingers.

My eyes lost focus, recollecting the image of Mac’s eyes looking directly into mine, and then the recognition of who I was meant to be, and then the way he reacted, so thrown, and then I saw the way he was caught off guard so quickly right after, and then, and then,  _ and then both of them just went down in an instant. _

The world might as well have been on fire, but no one had spoken since the match began.

“Mac’s going aight,” Falcon had commented, confidently nodding his head, “one-for-one so far.” R.O.B. beeped, sharing his sentiments.

In my periphery, I saw Pit bite his nails. “Injuries between stocks still hurt - do you see the way he couldn’t move his neck after getting kicked?”

_ Oh, god… they’re even, but Mac’s neck is done for. He won’t be able to dodge as swiftly, he won’t be able to block as quickly, he might lose, and when he loses… he’ll be devastated, and I can’t bear to see that again, even if I could be there for him… he’d be crushed. _

_ Why am I thinking like this? He’s not even down to his last yet, I can’t think like that; how would I be able to look him in the eye after assuming he would lose so early? How? _

_ He won’t lose, he won’t, he can’t. _

Above the thin platform, I saw, once more, two translucent steel plateaus.

The left carried Ganondorf, the right Mac.

His name flashed so clearly in my head, and a poison-green arrow of guilt pierced the wall of my heart.

They both dropped simultaneously, both like a sack of bricks. Mac had his arms already defensively up by his face, ready to guard, whereas Ganondorf wore that shit-eating grin, relaxed with his hands by his side.

I tapped the shape of each second with my fingers. Pit’s voice spoke out quietly. Each moment felt like three, or four, as neither made a move to approach the other. An unspoken hush fell over the crowd, and the women in front of us stopped chanting, as they circled each other. Mac’s gait was jerky, his head resistant to any sudden movements, his blue-black pupils concentrated deeply on his opponent.

“I said, do you notice it too, Lady Palutena?” Pit shook me, pointing to Mac’s walk.

“I see it.” I smiled grimly, and as I finished speaking, Mac rushed forward.

Something in my chest strung itself up, as Ganondorf unsheathed his cruel, dark sword, with its pure white central stripe and magnificent, heinous, sickeningly sweet honey-gold blade blunted only by rule and regulation. Mac’s eyes widened, and the thing in my chest dropped itself like a ball of rich, hot fire and was extinguished instantly, the steam that rose coming out of my eyes, scalding my face with tears of fear.

Mac saw it too.

He barely sidestepped the beast as the monster crashed down, small sharp shards of rock  _ flying _ out of the stage, and the audience cried bloody murder. Something red popped out of the corner of my vision - it was Pit’s vein, throbbing out of his temple. I watched him grapple with the seat, an invisible wrestling match, as though he barely was able to keep himself together.

I wasn’t too far off either. I whipped my head back round as I heard Ganondorf grunt, his severely whiffed move punished.

Mac launched a fast, fatal flurry of fists at him, and for a second I felt relief, until his adversary escaped one of them and instantly struck back with a brutal palm strike to Mac’s chin. He flew backwards, landing on the ground. From even this large a distance away, I heard, over the rampaging rush of the audience, his breath escape him.

I gripped my seat until my knuckles turned white, until my fingers began to throb in protest, until my nail cracked, the pain of it distracting me from the tension coming from a problem that  _ I couldn’t control _ .

_ Get up, Mac. _

Mac stayed on the ground.

_ Get up, Mac! _

Ganondorf approached.

“GET UP, MAC!” I screamed, barely hearing myself over the sheer ear-splitting volume of the crowd’s chanting. As Ganondorf jumped over him, his chest up and high, knees curled up to his chest, I realised he was preparing for a brutal head stomp.

“MAC!”

Pit grabbed my forearm tightly, the only thing stopping me from lurching out of my seat.

Mac rolled far backwards, out and away from his adversary in that second, and as Ganondorf’s eyes swung out to spot his opponent, feet fully extending to meet the ground, Mac wound up for a violent punch. It connected with a powerful  _ whack _ into his solidly built chest, and Ganondorf screamed, the noise rough, animalian, guttural, puncturing, vile, monstrous, dark.

The first time he’d ever betrayed any weakness.

Mac was breaking through.

He was going to finally win.

As he flew off into the distance, the crowd began to scream his name. The girls in the front row chanted, ‘Lit-tle-mac! Lit-tle-mac! Lit-tle-mac!’ The chant spread like a wildfire through the two stands, twelve thousand voices echoing his name. He grabbed his head, seemingly oblivious to the support he had once wanted so badly, and cradled it gently.

_ His neck. _

During the punch, he’d leaned backwards, and swung as hard as he could. The impact would have strained his neck muscles even further. I grimaced, the same old anxiety gnawing at my heart, on the verge of shattering it into a million pieces but never doing it to the fullest, prodding and poking from a safe distance, and I bit on my tongue in frustration, to cope, to cope with the pressure this match was giving me. My blood ran hot in my arms and cold in my feet.

My head was about to collapse in on itself from stress.

The disembodied voice continued to commentate on the recovering Ganondorf, whilst Mac tried to piece together his own reality from nothing.

“Lady Palutena, Mac’s going to be fine -  _ trust him _ .” He gave my arm a reassuring squeeze, breathing heavily.

I closed my eyes, and the world turned to black. I accepted Pit’s words. I repressed those fiery emotions that burned down the air and nothing more, the feelings that could do nothing. I held it down like a rush, barely holding it together, and it burned.

Ganondorf was on the ledge the next time I opened my eyelids. Mac didn’t challenge his standing back onto the stage. Trying to catch him off-guard, the warlock punched once, twice, the first Mac caught, but the second; the second sickeningly slammed into Mac’s stomach, sending him sliding across the solid stone, an audible skid slipping off his slick shoes.

I baulked.

Mac got back onto his feet quickly, but as he moved, it was like he got up too quickly.

I watched powerlessly as he yelled out in pain, holding his hands up to his face. Ganondorf ran with deep-seated, dark energy towards him, from across the stage, and as Mac launched a feeble punch aimed in his general direction, spun around, avoiding the weak hit completely.

He turned his back to him, and I watched the devil’s gleam burn in his eye as the wizard backhanded him off the stage.

Steam rose off Mac’s body as he flew. He was at high damage, no doubt. The blast zone, with its indiscriminate bounds, approached Mac ever so closely. Sonic gulped from two seats down, his usual flippant demeanor having broken down.

I hadn’t breathed for minutes. His velocity stopped him just short, and it was then I exhaled deeply. The stirring in the pit of my stomach, the nerves, it felt like I was going to vomit.

_ Mac, remember your training, I  _ beg _ of you. _

He floated downwards as Ganondorf jumped off the stage.

“OH? WHAT’S THIS?”

_ Shut up, please just shut up… What’s he trying, oh lord, please… _

As the image of Ganondorf began to cover his face, I swore I saw Mac grin weakly. With a demonic shriek, the warlock unsheathed that damned sword.

He swung it in midair at the recovering Mac.

Mac suddenly dropped his hips, raising his left arm in a counter pose.

_ That’s it. _

As the sword came down, I watched as Mac slipped past Ganondorf’s sword, his body tightening with the effort, neck straining hard to just support the weight of his amazingly big head, and threw an aerial uppercut to the chin. A hollow crack resounded in the stadium with the thousand voices echoing, triumphantly brandishing itself like a trophy, a sound above the others.

And the force was of cosmic proportions.

His adversary’s spine whipped with a backbreaking, paralysing thud into the flat underside of the stage, and bounced back off it at an irreversibly low angle.

I heard a bloodcurdling scream. I don’t know who it was from.

Ganondorf flew with such speed past Mac, mere inches from taking Mac with him, but was just not enough to touch the blast zone.

_ Mac. _

_ Is he going to make it back? _

_ IS HE? _

The stage was too far from him. He couldn’t possibly…

As soon as I thought that thought, as soon as I heard myself scream out, as soon as all of that happened chaotically within the space of an immeasurably small period of time, less than a nanosecond, I saw Mac spin around, his normally emerald green boxing glove turn a magnificently shining, brilliantly burning, fiery blue; his forearm, elbow and fist twisting themselves strangely, contorted and disjointed from the head injury - the only bright thing in the dark night atmosphere, bar the glowsticks families waved around and the teenagers’ phone cameras’ recording lights - and as he flipped himself around to face his enemy, he aimed it  _ perfectly _ at the back of his head, and it connected with a crushingly homicidal  _ thwack _ ; his opponent hurtled into the blast zone at the speed of sound, and the light that resounded right from Ganondorf’s ending engulfed Mac fully, making his form, his figure,  _ his enormous grin _ that he wore despite the circumstances, disappear right until he, too, reached the blast zone, his own luminous beam spurting out, borne from the ashes of his second-to-last life.

  
  


• • • • •

_ [ - Little Mac - ] _

**_( - Gym Leader Final Pokémon Theme | Pokémon Sword and Shield - )_ **

  
  


_ Two-for-two. _

Both of our final stocks.

Both the metaphorical pressure of the battle and the physical strain of my neck tearing every time I moved bore down on my shoulders.

It hurt real bad. 

I hadn’t been this close since Round One.

I shook the thought out of my head, with a  _ real _ head shake, in the  _ real _ world.

My brain turned to mush.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT’S BEEN A TRULY REMARKABLE NIGHT, EVEN AND ESPECIALLY IN MY OWN EXPERIENCES - THERE HAS NEVER BEEN AS AMAZING, SURREAL AND POWERFUL BOUT OF SMASHING AS THIS ONE, AND, WELL, WHAT  _ BETTER _ TO COMMEMORATE THIS STELLAR, OUT-OF-THIS-WORLD FRIDAY EVENING WITH THIS FINAL ROUND, WITH  _ ONE… STOCK… EACH… _ FROM BOTH OF OUR MAGNIFICENT COMPETITORS. GIVE IT UP FOR GANONDORF AND LITTLE MAC!”

The rumble of the crowd deeply rushed through the stage as though it was a level eight earthquake, but it wasn’t destructive, chaotic and unsettling; it was grandeur, poised and empowering, and it crept into my veins with its own crazy touch. The fire that torched the right side of my neck every time I turned burned itself out, and suddenly it was numb, and I felt liberated.

I was free.

Ganondorf tumbled to the ground, seemingly disgruntled by the previous scene. The expression of pure hatred he bore was frightening… yet slightly, satisfying?

I hadn’t been expecting myself to do that.

I’d wanted to make sure I would secure a kill, even if I myself wasn’t getting back to centre-stage. The thoughts were for some reason, now more than ever, more clearly defined, in my head.

_ Bait. _

Ganon rushed me down in that second with a frightening shoulder charge. I stepped backwards, out of the range of his strike.

_ Trap. _

I crouched and punched hard at his ankles, tripping him up.

_ Punish. _

Winding up my fist, I drew back and savagely thrust my fist _through_ Ganondorf with full force, digging into his stomach. He reeled backwards to the easternmost edge of the stage, any semblance of power remaining having been broken.

_ He’s done for. _

It was my time.

I rushed up to him, finally finding the strength to commit to the move, swinging my arm overhead straight into his back.

_ Why is he… facing away from me? _

My fist met its target well, but he barely responded. Ganondorf spun on his heels, a malicious smile forming on his lips, purple thunder gathering in the crook of his palm.

_ Warlock Punch. _

I only had time to think that thought.

There was no pain anymore as I felt the ground’s touch on my back. I knew it hit me, but I felt nothing. It was past visceral. The lumbering figure of Ganondorf, the Demon King, approached, and then it hit, the feeling of blood  _ leaking _ inside my body, pure fear distilled into dark red life fluid.

I got up weakly, to at least run from the next hit.

Then, it was as though time stopped.

With a wicked grin, Ganondorf suddenly quickened his pace, rushing up. His foot thrust me right below the belt.

I flew backward and the ground slammed into my back again.

This time, there was no numbing.

No shield of adrenalin to protect from it.

The rush of discomfort, then pain, then  _ agony _ rushed into my stomach.

_ Man’s biggest weakness. _

My vision blurred with tears of blood and acid. There were dark spots; treacherous, venomous black spiders that haphazardly swarmed my vision, and I was forced to force myself, to force myself, to force myself, to get up, barely able to  _ exist _ without pain.

The internal bleeding pushed me to my limit.

_ One last time, Mac. _

Doc’s voice boomed in my head. Whenever I was down for the count.

_ One, _

I stood tall, legs threatening to give, testicles numb, barely watching the glorious sight of purple lightning collect in Ganondorf’s fist once again. Dark light clouded the edges of it.

_ last, _

My fist at my side, I approached with a stagger in my step. The low light from the sky suddenly burned brightly, roasting my eyeballs.

_ time, _

The expression I sewed on my face was a mask of animalistic frustration, boundless anger and infinite distress. If there was a time to call on emotion in a fight, it was now.

_ Mac. _

I released my fist, thrown with the maximum force I could give it. It was my last shot.

He did too, his palm thrusting forward right at the same time.

And before I dissolved into nothing, I heard the yells of women and men both, felt the contact of black enchanted armor on my fist, and saw the figure of a seven-foot-tall titan rocket away from me with the force of a thousand suns.

Then, there was silence.

I couldn’t hear anything, then I slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	9. Secrets of an Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you don’t even know your own secrets.

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 9: Secrets of an Angel**

  
  


_ [ - Palutena - ] _

**_( - Snowpoint City [Nighttime] | Pokémon Diamond and Pearl - )_ **

  
  


“What do you mean, it doesn’t count?”

The tournament arbiter gave me a look as though he’d been repeating the last sentence he’d been saying for the last four years.

His face was unflinching.

Punchable, too.

“Ma’am, it doesn’t count because his opponent, Ganondorf, reached the blast line after he himself did.” His weaselly face pulled into a facetious grin.

“How far!? What was the time difference?”

The measly goblin pointed to the documents he held. “Sixty-three milliseconds.”

“How accurate are your sensors?”

“To the nearest millisecond.”

“Shouldn’t that c-count as a tie?”

“Ma’am, there are no such  _ things _ as ties in Smash.”

“That’s absolute bullshit!” I shouted, trying not to lose it. A hand gripped my arm, holding me back.

“Ma’am, we’ve thoroughly reviewed the frame-by-frame data.  _ Little _ ,” he stopped, smirking that ugly grin, “Mac lost. Again, he cannot be said to receive the final stock as the match technically concluded before his opponent’s final stock was taken.

“These are  _ just _ the  _ tournament rules _ ,” he said with a wily, slick smile, “so, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to accept that.” He swivelled on his knock-kneed legs, beginning to creep out of the room.

“You fu-”

The demon stopped abruptly. “Ma’am, I will have you know that if you threaten an official  _ Ultimate League _ official, you may be disqualified from participating in any future matches and/or subsequent tournaments.” The nasal pitch of his voice grated my ears. He sneered, oozing malicious compliance.

“I’ll be getting off. Have a good night.” With that, the shrivelled mass of flesh turned around and left the room.

“Screw that guy.”

“Yeah…” Pit turned to me, gripping my whitening fist, with a reassuring but weak smile. “Hey, uh… Sonic’s texted.”

“And?”

“He ran all the way there, and he’s finally gotten, er, clearance at the hospital to see Mac.” It was just past midnight, and I was exhausted.

Mac’s match, the last of the night, finished at ten thirty.

The last two hours was a wild back-and-forth. Sonic left early to run to the hospital - being on the southernmost tip of Smashville, the stadium was only a few k’s from it but that was by ferry or the private underground tunnel the medical staff used.

Neither of those routes were accessible.

Sonic had to go all the way up north, through the city, the suburbs and then back south again because not a single person gave us any single update on Mac’s condition.

The speed at which he flew…

I didn’t even see it happen.

It was one, then the next. A loud ‘boom’ had sounded, double in volume, before the fanfare muffled it, and neither of them were there. Footage had to be reviewed three times, before coming to the conclusion, that totally  _ dogshit _ conclusion.

I rubbed my eyes.

I remembered my heart stopped beating, watching him go from centre-stage to nothing, and recalled hearing the voice in my brain yell out ‘he’s dead’.

He was close to… he could’ve… almost…

Died.

It wouldn’t have been the first time something of the sort happened.

A similar story went with the exact same move - almost two decades ago. The story ran deep amongst the Smashers - a certain unbelievably light electric-type Pokémon had been launched at over _two_ _hundred_ percent by the move, right at the edge of Final Destination in one of the last matches of the _Melee_ tournament. A few hours afterward, no one suspected a thing; but, come the next tournament, the competitor was _nowhere to be seen_.

Come this tournament, years later, he’s number nineteen on the roster.

Being the equivalent of an animal in its respective world, it would have been incredibly easy to replace. No one would suspect a thing with little variation between members of the same species.

After all, they lack the ability to communicate with all but psychics, and how would the  _ new _ Pichu have known a thing about his ‘replacement’? And anyways - close to twenty years ago - how would anyone have remembered that incident?

Too easy, convenient to cover up, and I  _ panicked _ .

That could’ve happened to  _ him _ . A regular human with no powers, trademark weapons, or anything, low-mid-tier in the last tour - in the eyes of the public…  _ forgettable _ .

My heart had shot itself in a hurry.

“Lady Palutena, are you there?” I would’ve normally appreciated the adorably concerned look on Pit’s face, but I could feel nothing right now.

“...Yeah.”

“Should I call a cab or something?” He clumsily swiped about on his phone, walking outside. I hadn’t said a word, but he went about it anyways.  _ At least the reading lessons led somewhere… _

Something buzzed in my pocket.

_ I’m sorry I couldn’t come today, girl. _

_ It happened again... _

_ No problem, I understand. I’m certain Mac will too. _

_ Yeah _

_ I guess… _

_ What do you mean? _

_ You sound a little uneasy, are you alright? _

_ ( - NEW UNREAD MESSAGES [6], MISSED CALLS [2] - ) _

_ [22:30] I’m fine _

_ [22:57] I heard about what happened to Mac from Falcon he ok? _

**_(Missed call at 23:30)_ **

_ [23:32] Palutena??? You there? _

_ [23:33] Respond if you got this at all? _

_ [23:46] No judgment if anything happened please just call _

**_(Missed call at Saturday, 8th August, 00:07)_ **

_ [00:08] Palutena pick up god please I’m stressing out. _

_ Oh no. _

“Jane,” I spoke wearily, “apologies for not contacting you earlier.”

“Oh my goodness, you finally picked up why didn’t you pick up-”

“I-” I barely got the chance to start.

“-please just tell me what the situation is, top to bottom, is Mac mad, angry, that I didn’t come, what exactly happened to him? Is he in the hospital, w-where is he? Uh, er- do you have contacts with him? Is he fine, is he okay?”

“Jane, relax - Mac is in the hospital and Sonic is with him right now. We’re about to go over there, and I know you’re panicked, so stay on the line-”

“Yeah I know but it sounds really bad from what they said, my god what if he-”

“I know. You don’t have to tell me.” I shook my head. Pit raised the phone to me, a number already available.  _ $47.50? What the hell? _

“I know, I was thinking the same thing,” Pit lamented, “but we’ve gotta go for Mac first. I got the license plate here too. Take it?”

“Yeah, go on outside, I’ll meet you,” I replied, removing the phone from my ear. He left the dark, empty lobby of the stadium, bar a receptionist and the security guard working the night shift.

“Uhh… do, do you want me to go meet you there?”

“No, no, don’t - you have a match tomorrow - you’ve got to recover for then. I sent Falcon home too for the same reason - you’re no different. Plus,” I glanced furtively over my shoulder, to check Pit had left the lobby, “your… condition.”

“Yeah, that - earlier, it- it happened again, and I don’t know whether I’ll be good for tomorrow.”

“That’s twice this week, right?” I softened my voice.

“...Yeah. It’s only happened four times this entire tournament, and I’m afraid,” she paused. I heard a long, shaky, unstable breath being drawn, and saw her grab something for support, closing her gray eyes in my mind’s eye. “-I’m afraid that this tour, it might be  _ it _ .”

“Jane…”

“No- stop.” The way she shaped her words was like she was talking to herself more than to me. “Mac’s condition is right now, much, much worse.” I opened my mouth, but was stopped. “We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah? Don’t worry about it.” I felt a brave smile come to Jane’s voice in those last few words.

“I promise you can call me anytime you want, Jane. I’m sorry I didn’t respond earlier, I was just… just busy with dealing with people and everything.”

“No problem, Palutena. Have a good night; text me about Mac, I put my phone on silent so there’s no worries about waking me up, okay?”

“Yeah. Sleep well.”

She laughed weakly. “Depends on whether I can.”

I set the phone down, pressing the screen lightly. Shadows cast by the streetlights outside darkened the vacant lobby. I glazed over, emptying the thoughts of Jane and Mac and all these things that swarmed, little insects that demanded my attention that I knew were important but were so far out of my control it was futile to address them, and more effective to swat them away.

_ Take your own advice. _

One thing at a time.

Slowly.

“You comin’?” Pit called. A blue taxi pulled up on the side of the pavement next to him.

“Yeah, yeah.” I strode out of the stadium’s glass doors to the waiting car. Pit courteously opened the side door for me. His tired grin still held a bit of cheek to it.

“After you, m’lady.” 

“Much appreciated,” I replied, sitting on the rightmost seat.

“You’re welcome, Lady Palutena.” Pit slammed the door shut.

The cab driver wordlessly gripped the wheel and off we went.

  
• • • • •

_ [ - Pit - ] _

**_( - Gate Theme | Pokémon Black and White - )_ **

  
  


“Good evening, ma’am and sir,” the female nurse said slowly, having emerged from a nearby office. Her frizzy auburn hair flew under the blowing fan. Doctors milled about, holding clipboards and wielding cold stethoscopes.

“Evening, miss.” I bowed my head.

She smiled exhaustedly. “Apologies for the wait: I understand that it’s late. Your friend  _ Mac _ is… well,” she cleared her throat, “I might as well let you see him first. He’s stable.”

Lady Palutena breathed out suddenly in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

“Follow me.” The curly-haired woman walked down the corridor. “In there,” she pointed at a wooden door, opening it.

Sonic sat next to the asleep Mac on the bed. Mac had a nasty black eye, and his head was propped up strangely on the pillow, some tubes coming out of his nose and mouth. Pretty standard for him, to be honest, but this time he looked in bad shape.

Lady Palutena strode over to Sonic. Every time she walked, it was like a reminder of how tall she was, especially in the heels. “How are you?”

“I’m tired, Palutena,” he laughed. “I remember in  _ Tournament 4 _ he got injured a lot, but never this badly - they had to grab an  _ ambulance _ this time round. Most of the time they’re stable enough to just use a H-Pod and go, but not today, obviously.” Sonic’s laugh was kinda forced. He sounded exhausted.

“What’s the condition?”

“Getting hit by the Volcano Kick strained his left trapezius muscle quite badly.” She pointed briefly to the same muscle on her own body. Looking at it, his head rested closer to the injured muscle, so it wouldn’t be further stretched. “Sternum bone is healing quite well,  _ but _ the third and fourth ribs were fractured in the battle.”

“Gods, that sounds severe.”

“Yeah, well, you couldn’t see him earlier… that was actually because we had to operate on him because of the severe internal bleeding. The only real reason he’s going to be out within a few days is because of those,” the nurse pointed up at the healing cubes, “things. Magic, but bloody expensive to operate.”

“Well, it’s good to hear that Mac isn’t doing so bad. Is that all?”

“That’s the most of it, but I think you also might’ve noticed this in the battle - Mac took a really bad shot to the testicles, too,” She shuddered. “Although it’s bad, it’s not to the point that it’s medical; still, he’ll be feeling that for a while - honestly speaking, knowing his opponent - he might have trouble walking for a bit.” I cringed a little, recalling the way Ganondorf’s feet slammed forcefully into him - and, the steel outline of the bottom of the boot. It was with serious intent too.

“-Oh.” Lady Palutena winced.

“Yeesh,” Sonic replied.

“Will he be battle-ready for next week?”

“I would say yes, but he’ll likely still be affected by the injuries sustained today. But like with everything medical, we’ll have to see.” The nurse nodded, bun bobbing up and down. “Should I take it that you want to stay the night here? There are resting rooms nearby.”

“Sonic, you have a game in two days,” Lady Palutena nodded. “You’ve already done your part, rushing here like this. Go home and get some sleep.”

“What about you two?”

“My battle is one of the last this round,” I finally spoke up. It bore down on me to even speak. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, and I’m safe,” Lady Palutena nodded. “We’ll stay here tonight.”

“Alright.” He smiled sleepily. “Mac’s lucky - he’s in good hands.”

“Want me to grab ya a cab?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine, Pit; thanks, though. Goodnight.” Sonic offered a salute, to which Lady Palutena and I both reciprocated. He left the room with the nurse, who called out, “I’ll show you to your rooms after I lead him downstairs!”

“What a hospitable lady,” Lady Palutena commented, sitting down in the comfy-looking armchair Sonic was just on.

“Yeah, I agree.” I plopped down on the plastic seat next to her.

I felt tiredness creep up on me.

My head lulled a little to the side. I’d been used to resisting it, staying vigilant for Lady Palutena and Skyworld, but, right now, it seemed just about… safe. On passive alert. She smiled serenely, eyes half-opened, half-closed, as she looked at Mac in the corner. He was dead to the world, enraptured in a strangely comforting manner.

I caught myself staring at her, and the realisation of it pricked my skin a bit. My eyebrows, I felt, shot upwards, but she made no notice, instead staring at Mac’s sleeping figure. His eyelids were closed comfortably, nothing at all going on behind them.

To be honest, I wanted to feel that way.

A knock sounded on the door. I turned to see the welcoming nurse from before.

“Would you like to go to a guest room, young man?” She was talking directly to me, and not Lady Palutena. Swivelling around, I saw Lady Palutena’s eyes closed, unresponsive to her, still facing Mac. She held his hand under hers.

“I think she’s gone off to sleep,” the nurse whispered.

“...Yeah, I think so too,” I spoke quietly, getting up. “I’ll take a room, I guess.”

“Okay.”

We walked silently, a few other nurses milling about too. Reaching the room, it was small and plain, white walls. The only furnishing was the bed and wooden bedhead, with a potted plant in the corner which felt out of place. It was neither cold nor hot, which felt relaxing and perfect for sleep. But I didn’t feel all right. I barely remembered hearing the nurse murmur a goodnight to me on the way out, because of it.

The image flashed across my head again, as I took off my shoes and plopped down on the bed. I was physically exhausted. The bed was calling. The image of a fair hand on top of the slightly more tanned one below it…

_ Why are you thinking like this? He’s had a rough battle, and Palu- Lady Palutena just wants to support him. _

But I had a feeling and it wouldn’t stop hounding me.

_ That’s legitimately nothing. Don’t make a… molehill out of a mountain, was it? Mountain out of a molehill. _

_ Yeah, anyways. It’s, it’s nothing. _

I lay there, yawning at the spinning fan.

_ It’s nothing. _

With that, something clicked, and that was all, all it took, to spiral into sleep.


	10. Cheese Without The Mac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “People are but sand through your fingers; treasure them, hold them gentle while they sit in your palm.”
> 
> Mac contemplates the future. A voice is given to the least vocal woman, her secrets somewhat revealed through the eyes of a particular green-haired, green-eyed goddess, who herself fails to realise what she's revealed about her life.

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 10: Cheese Without The Mac**

  
  


_ [ - Pit - ] _

**_( - Lilycove City [Bossa Nova Remix] | Pokémon Diamond and Pearl - )_ **

  
  


Fox slid underneath his arch-nemesis on the TV. Wolf leapt over him, slicing his purple claws in a straight arc. With a sinister meteor sound, Fox’s face turned to terror as the slash bounced him back up off the ground, high in the air.

The ace pilot was inches from the fuzz of the blast zone, and the patrons in Centiskorch’s Café screamed out cheers of support for the cunning wolf. Fox quickly descended; eyes darting around to spot his enemy. Wolf burned in a purple fire, matching the violet of his ragged coat. The space mammal dodged right fast, switching his direction in the turn of a head.

Wolf read him like a book. The mercenary swivelled around, indigo flames surrounding his feet as the blow connected, with a bloodthirsty grunt. Fox screamed out, melting into the side of the screen.

“GAME!” The announcer cried with a childlike glee. The victorious beast turned to the crowd, slashing his claws up and down, a cocky smile worn on his face.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WOLF O’DONNELL!” A plane with red and grey stripes on it flew down. Wolf saluted mockingly. He jumped into the space plane right as it touched the stage, sparks flying everywhere; then, the TV flashed to soccer.

“Finishing it with the up-special, just like ya did, Cap’n,” I commented.

Captain Falcon took another swig from his beer. “Heh, thanks. Told ye that Falcon Dive ain’t ever get old. Ye shoulda the look on ‘is face.” He imitated Marth’s face, as best he could with the helmet on, mouth opened shock-jawed. Sonic snorted.

“Funny - alright, Mr. Falcon, we all know you want another round of cheers.”

“Dayum, ye sure saw right through me,” he grinned, raising his glass. The racer was red in the face. I brought my glass up, clinking it against the others’. “Cheers - but this time, it’s tah’ Jane. Good on ya, girl.”

“Thanks, Douglass.” Jane smiled appreciatively. “It wasn’t really anything, though.”

“That Robin was tough, tuh be honest wit’ ya,” Captain Falcon replied.

“Yeah, I agree - Ike is pretty dangerous what with that long ass sword of his,” Sonic said with a smirk.

“Didn’t she fight that Corrin guy, though?” I confusedly asked.

“Oh, they’re all the same,” Jane added, chuckling.

“Anyways…” Lady Palutena piped up, red wine swirling in her glass, matching the colour of her dress. “Jane, you have to give yourself more credit. You landed that foot-spike  _ blindly _ off-stage. You weren’t even looking in his direction!”

R.O.B. beeped.  _ Maybe that was in agreement to her. _

“Ah, I guess you’re right. I’ll take the compliment,” she said, laughing.

“Hey, but more than that, you both are _ safe _ in  _ Ultimate _ !” Sonic waved his hands about. “I mean… Palutena, you and Mr. Falcon - that’s three of us! I know you and I, Pit,” he pointed across the table at me, “are fairrrly high in numbers too, so we should be fine too.”

Falcon was quick to interject. “Ye’re missing R.O.B. - ‘e’s only a few lower than Pit. In no time, the entire crew shu’d b-.”

As soon as he said that, he caught the last of his words in his mouth.

_ W-why is everyone silent? _

“A moment of silence for our fallen brother.” Sonic solemnly spoke.

“Don’t say that, Sonic, he still has one more battle left to fight.” Lady Palutena’s voice was stronger than ever, and her eyebrows were knitted tightly.

“Wait, whad’ya both mean?” I was a bit afraid of the response.

Lady Palutena sighed in irritation. “Well… it’s Mac. Mac isn’t, argh, he’s only got twelve points on the board right now.”

“Twelve points?” Sonic exclaimed. “Oh, crap, he’s in a worse state than I thought!”

Sweat rose to my hands as everyone around the table looked at him or averted their gazes. He shut up quickly.

_ Twelve… only twelve points? Oh, he’s really, really in a bad way right now. That puts him in like the bottom twenty, maybe? Maybe, maybe, if I’d let him win the first round we had against each other, he’d have an extra two plus three equals five points right now. That would put him in an insanely better position, than now, and maybe he wouldn’t have to do something amazing next round, oh no, oh no. _

“O-oh, that sounds, uh, not too good for Mac…”

“You think!?” Lady Palutena snapped. “Damn, I made a promise to him that I’d get him through, but even now I can’t even say I’ll make that come true.”

I could’ve sworn she muttered, “...and I never, never make promises I can’t keep.”

My eye twitched slightly, and I shied away in my seat slightly. _ Lady Palutena, I didn’t mean to piss you off…  _ The floor was panelled with dark, earthy wood. Nice brown rings patterned it once every while. I saw myself staring into it and caught myself halfway.

The celebratory air was completely gone from the dinner.

“I’m going to the ladies’,” Jane spoke up. “Excuse me.”

“You are excused,” Sonic deadpanned, poking absently at the chilli dog he was eating with no hint of an appetite.

“Thanks, Sonic,” Jane responded sharply. With that, she pushed her seat back in, nearly backing into a bug-Pokémon waiter.

_ One less person to share the tension between. _

I jabbed at the fried noodles in the steel bowl. The noodles were tantalisingly yellowed with sauce and flavour. I was hungry. The food looked amazing.

But… it was like my stomach was already filled with the thought that even though we’d only met for a few weeks now, my bro might not be here for much longer, and it was - well - partially my fault.

We wouldn’t be able to contact each other in any way if he left, until the next tournament.

_ Who knows when that is? _

Captain Falcon cleared his throat. “To be honest wit’ ye, even though it was - excuse th’ language - a li’l bullshit they ain’t consider that last life of Ganondorf’s a stock for Mac… there ain’t nothin’ we can do about it. From what ye told me, Palutena, they ain’t even gonna reconsider any form of appeal - in a match, ye can’t have both contestants take three stocks. That’s the official rule, innit, as much as it absolutely don’t make no sense in this case.

“So I say we gotta do whatever, whatever it takes tuh guide Mac. We gon’ help ‘im figure out tech, analyse his matches, etcetera etcetera, for ‘is last fight - Round Five. I mean, Palutena, we just gotta work on what we worked on before - there was a lot of progress recently. Mac went from no stocks to, well, we’ll say,  _ effectively _ , three in the span of just a week. That sounds like progress to me.

“Perhaps, maybe, even, appeal to the administration for at least  _ some  _ form of compensation, to make his fifth match later on in the week, givin’ us a li’l more time to help ‘im.”

There was then just the sound of Sonic munching on his food, seemingly having regained his ever-large hunger, and R.O.B.’s motors whirring as they recharged. For a few seconds, at least.

“-Yeah. You’re right, Captain. I… You’re right. Pit, I’m sorry about before.” Lady Palutena rubbed her head softly. “I’m just worried.”

“No problem, Lady Palutena.” I looked down, smiling a little involuntarily.

Her phone’s ringtone abruptly played. She picked up the rectangular device gingerly. “Oh, it’s the hospital. Let’s see what’s up.”

Sonic stopped chewing for a second, staring at Lady Palutena as she picked it up.

“Hello?... Yes, this is her… … Uh-huh, yep…. … … … … … … Whoa, wait, already?”

She brought the phone away for a second, a glint in her eye.

“Mac came conscious a few minutes ago.”

  
• • • • •

_ [ - Little Mac - ] _

**_( - Lacunosa Town | Pokémon Black and White - )_ **

  
  


I twisted my head to the side instinctively, reaching for my phone.

“AAAAAAGGHH!!”

Something rushed into my head and everything went red. Only pain in my right shoulder. A crushing migraine pulsated in the core of my skull.

“Oi, pipe it down!” The same howling nurse from back when R.O.B. got injured abruptly shrieked, thrusting the wooden door into the wall. “There are  _ others _ \-  _ trying _ \- to rest here too!”

“Aren’t you- aren’t you generating more noise than I am?”

She stared icily at me. That woman must’ve been thinking about poisoning the  _ water supply _ to get back at me for that one. She turned on her heels, sauntering out of the room with a loud clip-clop of her heels. My ears cried bloody murder when the foul woman slammed the door shut. A piercing screech rippled from the door hinge.

“...Fucking bitch.”

I settled down, reaching for the phone more gingerly this time. The infuriatingly soft grain of the wooden bedside table rubbed against the pad of my finger, as the phone inched, little by little, closer.

_ What did I do to deserve this punishment? _

I made contact with the thing, trying not to fall over.

_ Aaah, the charger is still in. _

The exclamation was more mental than verbal, because what if that Gorgon of a woman returned?

My right hand danced around to the far side of the phone carefully. The index and middle tweaked the black wire, as my forearm began to cramp. I groaned. Wiggling it gently, the charger disconnected slowly, the phone dropping gently onto the table with a soft thud. I nabbed it with my fingers, gradually bringing it in front just as the tension of holding my arm in that awkward position began to take its toll.

_ WHATSAPP [21:39] _

_ You may have new messages. _

_...Mmh. I guess that’s to be expected. _

I swiped, drawing the M. Normally, the slight dopamine rush of opening texts was pleasurable, or even,  _ enjoyable _ … but this time, I wanted nothing better than to just talk to someone face-to-face, instead of reading through each text one by one with the coldness of the screen staring me in the face.

I pressed my finger on the app button and sighed.

_ THE MISFITS (Palu, Pithead, Maurice, Jane, Falcon, ROBert, you) _

_ ( - NEW UNREAD MESSAGES [10+] - ) _

_ [09:30]  _ **_Palu:_ ** _ @Maurice @Jane @Falcon Pit and I were in the hospital last night _

_ Don’t think Mac is getting up any time soon. _

_ FYI he’s alright but might take awhile to recover _

_ [09:31]  _ **_Jane:_ ** _ Oh thank god. Good! _

_ [09:32]  _ **_Maurice:_ ** _ Haha recover _

_[09:32]_ ** _Jane:_** _..._

_ [09:33]  _ **_Palu:_ ** _ Shut up, haha. _

_ I was worried out of my mind but he’s alright now. _

_ [09:34]  _ **_Pithead:_ ** _ Okay, that’s good. _

_ [09:34]  _ **_Falcon:_ ** _ Nice spelling Pit perfectly punctuated too _

_ [09:35]  _ **_Pithead:_ ** _ Voice translation. _

_ [09:35]  _ **_Palu:_ ** _ You’re meant to practice Pithead… _

_ [09:36]  _ **_Pithead:_ ** _ Okay, Lady Palutena. _

_ [09:36]  _ **_Palu:_ ** _ I can tell when you’re using it and not Pit… _

_ [09:37]  _ **_Pit:_ ** _ I was actually doing it, though! _

_ [21:45]  _ **_Falcon:_ ** _ Arright! Falcon gets another W!! _

_ Where you guys at, Jane and I are coming out into the lobby _

_ [21:48]  _ **_Pithead:_ ** _ Jumpup weave yor hand _

_ [21:49]  _ **_Jane:_ ** _ I can see you guys! I’m heading over now. _

_ [22:55]  _ **_Palu:_ ** _ Mac, if you’re awake, say something please! _

_ [22:56]  _ **_Pithead:_ ** _ wE Nkow yor awak _

_ [22:56]  _ **_Maurice:_ ** _ I had a stroke reading that _

_ [22:57]  _ **_Palu:_ ** _ Don’t pressure him to talk, Pit, he just woke up. _

A notifications bar abruptly flew down from the top of the screen.

_ ( INCOMING CALL - PALU (3 MISSED)) _

**_O_ ** _ Decline  _ / _ Accept?  _ **_I_ **

Without thinking, my finger dropped onto the Accept button. Although it would be nice to hear Palu and her silken smooth voice, I had no energy and I was jet-lagged being awake at eleven at night, and I wanted nothing more than to just… struggle to go back to sleep.

Especially with insomnia, that’s something I - never - thought I’d hear myself think.

“Palu?”

“Mac! Are you alright?” Without waiting for my response, she continued. “Oh gosh, I’m going to have to put you on speaker, is that fine?”

“Yeah, yeah, go for it.” There was a sound from the other side and background chatter from random voices eroded the phone speaker.

“Where are you guys at right now? Sounds pretty, uh, lively.”

“We’re at Centiskorch’s Café for dinner, Mac!” Pit called. “Cap’n and Jane both won their battles for Round Four!”

“Niiice, good job Falc!”

“Thanks, sonny.” I could almost see him saluting in my mind’s eye.

“Where’s Jane, by the way?” Even though I didn’t really know what she was going to say to me after what happened two days back, I missed her a little.

“She’s in the restroom right now.”

“Mmh, alright. No problem - actually, speaking of matches, no-one from the tournament has officially told me what I’m at. Funnily enough, they haven’t updated the page from yesterday yet. Must be my internet. How’d I go?”

There was a dead silence. Someone hissed something.

“Palu? Pit? Are y’all there?”

“Yeah, we’re here.” Pit wavered.

“Mac?” Palu asked.

“Yeah?”

“Mac, I hate to break it to you - I wish I could be there with you - but you… you lost.”

“Wait, what do you mean? I-I mean, I saw him flying away  _ first _ .”

“In the heat of the moment that’s how things seem. It’s, I understand that, we- I mean, Pit, Sonic, Falcon and I, we all know from experience that things seem different in the battle, but when you look at the footage and the replays - you get my meaning.”

“Yeah, well, d-do I at least get credit for three stocks, like a tie? I mean, it’s counterintuitive- and, and I mean, it doesn’t make sense, but c’mon, that’s not really, really that fair.”

The air conditioning was ice cold but my palms leaked sweat.

“Mac… I’m sorry. We tried.”

I grimaced tightly. Subconsciously, my stomach trembled. There was the sound of teeth chattering.

I realised that the sound came from my own jaw.

“H-hey, don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. But, er, h-how much did I miss out by?”

“A… a few seconds.” Palu responded, but not before Sonic in the background yelled out something else. Hurriedly, a female voice - Palu’s - told him to shut up in a furious tone, but I’d heard what he said.

He’d said “sixty-three milliseconds.”

_ What? _

I yelled. “Palu, are you serious?”

There was another long silence. I stewed in my own sweat, waiting for the loudmouth nurse to come in and bust my ass for making noise again.

She didn’t come in, but there was a part of me that wanted her to enter and start screaming her ugly head off so I wouldn’t feel like there was no reason for my aggravation.

“Mac, ya there?” Pit’s voice crackled over the speaker.

The audio quality was good, though.

“Yeah. I’m here. Sorry for yelling, Palu.”  _ She’s gonna think that was directed to her. _

“She isn’t here.” Pit replied sharply. It was kinda scary - his voice was almost always either happy and encouraging, or dejected and sad, but never aggressive, terse or short.

“Oh.” Then, the background noise went softer - the phone must’ve been turned off speaker.

“Hm. Are ya feeling any better?” Sounds of footsteps came from the other end.

“Well enough. Neck can’t move very well still. Tired.”

“If you’re tired, should I leave ya?” His tone was still acid.

_ If I keep talking… I might screw it up worse. _

“You know what, sure. Goodnight, Pit.”

He didn’t respond. The hangup tone rang out.

And then, my hands were a little less moist and my clothes stuck a little less to my skin.

**_( - 我终于失去了你 (At Last I Have Lost You) | 赵传 (Chao Chuan) - )_ **

I sighed.  _ I really, really don’t know what to think about this anymore. _

The blanket felt stifling now that the heat rose up. I kicked it off gently, not wanting to shoot myself in the foot again. The wind in the cold room bit, but I wasn’t bothered enough to get up and change the thermostat.

_ ‘Whenever you’re feeling confused, Mac baby, you gotta look inside yourself and pull your feelings out of you. You’ll feel clearer, Mac, you just gotta be brave and take the dive.’ _

I didn’t feel like it. It felt like a monster in the back of my mind that I was so scared to face but knew I had to face eventually; like the frog you have to eat but the frog was poisonous and had warts. The alternative was rest - I could’ve just gone to sleep… but there’s too much going on up there for me to. I knew that for a fact. I’d be rolling around for at least an hour, maybe even two, before catching a wink, and that would be even more torture because that would be plainly unproductive and I’d hate myself for it. I didn’t need any more self-loathing after that entire episode.

I might as well confront myself.

_ I feel alone,  _ something in me said.

I didn’t expect myself to - say - that, but when it resounded I knew it to be true.

_ I feel alone. Physically, right now, I’m alone and it’s late at night. Mentally alone; I pushed them all away.  _ The pit of my stomach, in between belly and chest, suddenly felt like it was pushing into, depressing itself with fear and sheer… aloneness.

_ Aloneness. _

_ That’s not a word. _

_ But it summarises how I feel right now. _

“Aloneness.” I said it aloud, to no one but myself, playing with the verbiage.

“Loneliness, it’s like you’ve got only a handful of people who really know you; and people know you’re feeling lonely. Aloneness, however… I can’t put my finger on what strictly is different about it, but, it’s like you’re fully alone. One person.”

Saying that only depressed, pushed in that same pit of my stomach even further.

_ That’s pushing them away. But… there’s something else. What about the match? I took two stocks off Ganondorf and it’s stupid that it doesn’t count for jack, that last one. I know, I know that I was off by a few milliseconds and that it doesn’t technically count as a tie, but it’s so… aargh! They’re right to not let me have it - but man, it feels like I do deserve it and I know I do; I want it so badly but yet if they had given it to me, I’d feel nothing but guilt and undeserving. _

_ What does that put me on? Two times three, six points plus the last six… my god. I’m on twelve points. _

_ Twelve. _

Twelve points.

The thought had simply paralysed my brain.

_ I probably wouldn’t be making it into  _ Ultimate _. _

The thought used to be, used to be so distant and far away, the date, that I wasn’t entirely worried about it - it wasn’t real yet. But now it was very real and very visceral and in my direct line of vision.

And I had one game to make up for it.

Yet, it was strange. Having won three stocks - would’ve been, had it not been for a technicality - was a big improvement. A big improvement over the last two rounds - clearly so. I almost won.

It was working.

_ My back’s against the wall.  _ Doc always used to say this one thing, about how some people crumble under the pressure and can’t take it, they fumble the ball; but others, in high duress situations, they  _ flourish _ and pull off their best results; it’s the do-or-die situation that pushes them, forces them to go higher, to elevate their game.

_ Despite the loneliness, the exhaustion, everything building up… at least this part of the problem feels good in a weird way. The world’s against me, the impossible task is in front of me and a three-headed gorgon is behind me.  _ In a poetic, epic manner, it felt grand, the impossible looking battle I was facing right now, the one-man army versus the militia of a thousand men.

I decided then and there that the world’s toughest task would not bring me down.

  
• • • • •

_ [ - Palutena - ] _

**_( - Lilycove City [Bossa Nova Remix] | Pokémon Diamond and Pearl - )_ **

  
  


Thoughts swarmed into my head and I was simply overwhelmed.

_ It’s just his reaction. I know he’s not pissed at me, and he’d get why I hid it from him initially, I know that. _ I breathed deeply, walking to the restroom. It’d been under the guise of checking on Jane, as she’d been in there for about seven minutes already; but  _ really _ , I needed to be alone for awhile.

I opened the door. The room was well kept, as well as it could being a restroom. Turning on the tap, I thrust the water onto my face. It wasn’t cold… just wet.

_ Between us… we haven’t  _ really _ had much conflict. It’s maybe because of that, that I’ve had this knee-jerk reaction. _ I couldn’t shake the feeling, the feeling of stinging in my cheeks.

_ You’re upset. Don’t deny it. _ Something popped up in my mind. I tried to shake it away, but it continued - I let myself let it continue.

_ When someone you look up to and like a lot shoots you down like that, that’s how you feel. You question what you did wrong, and that’s where this comes from.  _ From Pit’s experiences with other angels that he’d told me about, it seemed like being singled out in a social situation for awkwardness.

_ He’s a mortal, though. _

_ But he’s  _ Mac _. _

The internal conversation exploded as I peered in the mirror, hands wet.

_ You command these humans - you’re a literal goddess. _

I looked shocked.

_ You’re not easily rattled, especially by those below you. _

Not really sorrowful or furious or angry.

_ A jarring moment like that only comes from a few types of people. _

The face stared back, eyes piercing and deep trying to stop the flow of thought.

_ When you do wrong and you know it,  _

The eyes, the eyes.

_ or especially being chided by people with more power than yourself, _

The eyes, the  _ eyes _ .

_ -people you respect- _

THE EYES, THE EYES.

_ -people you l- _

A feminine groan rocked the world. The low sound emerged from one of the toilet stalls opposite, painted in a dark pink, in the otherwise empty bathroom.

_ Jane. _

“Jane?”

“-I’m in here.” The voice that came out was barely hers, strained and forced.

“Where?”

“L-last…”

“Are you alright?” I dabbed my hands, unconcerned of the horrible feeling of damp clothing. I rushed over.

When I reached the opposite end of the toilet, the latch suddenly unlocked, and the wood door gradually swung open.

“Jane…”

“I-it… it happened.”

She was sitting on the shut toilet clothed, her back pressed completely on the seat, leaned to the right. Her arm rested on the toilet paper canister, yet the flesh was trembling.

“Your seizures…”

“Yeah. More frequent.” Jane laughed mirthlessly.

I didn’t say a word. Her eyes rolled back in her skull, and she lulled to the back of the seat. Her feet barely kept on the floor, despite the rubber soles of her shoes matching the traction of the tile, and her left arm lay limp at the wayside.

“I’m sorry, Jane.”

“No need… no need, to be,” Jane replied slowly, “not your fault.”

“No- I, I just wish, there was something I could do. I’m a goddess.”  _ I feel as though I state that way too much, and maybe it’s to the point of being patronising. _

“You’re always h-here for me. All I could ask for.” Her words were barely enunciated properly. It felt scar

Those fractured sentences hurt to hear.

“I love you, sister.”

“Y-you too.”

“Do you want me to warp you back?”

She sighed. “I want t-to spend,” Jane stretched the vowel brokenly, “time … them, but I d-don’t want… s-see me this way.” The way her voice broke off in the middle of those sentences, during random words, it was a heartbreaking tell.

“Alright, Jane. No judgment. I understand. Let’s do it.”

I walked into the stall, grabbing hold of her limp wrist.

It was going to take a lot of energy. Being a goddess from out of this world meaning absolutely nothing in this universe didn’t help at all.

“Home, right?”

“Apartment 16.”

“Want me to come back with you?”

“...Requires more energy for you… alone.”

“Alright.”

I closed my eyes and remembered the location of her flat, focussing in on that place, gripping her wrists strongly but hopefully not to the point of causing her any pain. Her forearms began to thin out, until they were air.

When I opened them next, Jane was gone.

I was alone again.


	11. Can't Outrun The Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mac encounters a friend who needs a shoulder to lean on, and later finds himself talking to a particular pretty blonde girl, making him himself realise something...

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 11: Can’t Outrun The Pain**

  
  


_[ - Little Mac - ]_

  
  


_Sunday 9th August 2076, 17:43._

The metal lift doors opened. The aluminum smelled kinda nice and there was a feeling dragging me back to it.

_Oh well._

I was exhausted. Getting up at two or three, then getting clearance to leave the hospital at four-thirty, it was tiring and my sleep schedule was without a single sliver of a doubt _screwed_. I was jaw-clenchingly tired, like having just gotten up from a two-hour nap, too flat to do anything yet too awake to go back to rest.

I dragged my feet to the floor of the flat and twisted the key into the lock.

_Wrong way, idiot._

“Shiiiiiiiitt.” The struggle continued for a little, the lock giving some resistance. Then, the door opened. Stepping in, I nearly slipped backwards and cracked my head on the hardwood door.

“Jesus Christ!”

It was an envelope I’d slipped on, actually.

“Who the hell sends letters nowadays…?” I picked it up, absently closing the door behind me. The tear of the paper was dissatisfying, but inside it was more important. The sheet of paper was typed on in printed Arial font, formally written.

“Hmm… two new fighters… brother and sister… coming to my apartment… new neighbours…?”

The preliminaries were going to be over in about two weeks - the fact that they hadn’t been brought in earlier was weird. A little suspect, even.

The Arial font, too, was eccentric. Master Hand never sent physical letters, and never formally - he was beyond all that; hell, he sacrificed a lot to get us here, so there was always an air of familiarity about any messages he did send.

It also seemed strange, out of the blue, given that housing in Smashville was always well-spaced. There were even entire mostly-empty twenty-storey apartments for Smashers, so for two - well, three - unrelated fighters to be in the same building and floor as each other was somewhat… curious.

 _Are… are they losing money?_ _I can understand the decision to maybe compact the Smashers’ accommodation, but the fact that he hasn’t released a statement at least to us, the fighters, is somewhat worrying…_

But last of all, what the _hell_ were the names?

_ Byleth… Byron… _

That first one didn’t sound real; hell, even Latin would be a bit of a stretch for that name. Those two were likely one of those swordfighters.

A buzz from my phone brought me back to life.

 _Shit, I actually haven’t checked it since last night._ Swiping open, I read the newest message.

_SONIC: Hey Mac, do ya mind if I come over 4 a bit. Sorry if ur tired from hospital but…_

_SONIC: I need 2 talk._

I typed out a “yeah sure” before looking at the rest of the texts, all of them centred around congratulating Sonic for a win.

It then hit me that he’d just had his match this morning.

“If he won… why is he coming over?”

Sudden images and memories of Red Hoodie and his words flashed in my head repeatedly.

_Oh, god._

Then there were the thoughts of the crowd shouting boos, shooing him offstage, the awkward image of the announcer doing damage control, and I didn’t know what it was but I was pretty sure it was just that, but yet hoping it wasn’t.

I texted him back. No response.

With that, the walk up the stairs to the shower was a little more troubled.

  
• • • • •

**_( - Partner’s Theme [Music Box] | Pokémon Super Mystery Dungeon - )_ **

  
  


The shower was - guiltily - a little refreshing. The hot water causing the steam on my skin, and then the cold of the air conditioning, and the feeling of fresh carpet underfoot all combined to form this ball of euphoria.

I walked downstairs slowly, making sure not to rush too fast or risk pulling the groin muscle Ganondorf kicked in the other day.

_Low blow, god’s sake, he’s a dude himself. He should know not to hit below the belt._

The door was opened. From the top of the stairs, a bright ray of orange-yellow light shone into the living room from the corridor outside the flat.

“Sonic?”

“The door was unlocked.” The dry tone came from right under the stairs, a blindspot for me.

“Ah, shit. Well, ya shoulda knocked. I was at risk of coming down naked.”

No laugh.

I jogged down the last couple stairs, turning around. Sonic didn’t bother to look behind.

_Uh oh._

I sank deep into the couch bed. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t hide it anymore, brother.” He’d never before called me that.

I stayed mute.

“I… I really don’t know where to start,” he continued. “I play as hard as I can and I do well, and I _know_ I’m good, and it’s like the mob just doesn’t see that because there’s nothing but silence whenever I win, compare it to the people before and after me…

“These guys out here, I dunno, like Fox, Donkey Kong, Pikachu - and of course, Mario,” he said with a sigh on the last name, “are no different to me - sure, we look different, but we’re all heroes or saviours or whatever of some world somewhere in the universe - and they’re getting kids and adults, girls and guys, fans of all ages, screaming, and yelling, and cheering, and waving signs and cards and it’s like why do I bother?

“Mac, they’re treating me different for no apparent reason and it’s pissing me off because it’s something I deserve, I know I do. I have fans, but why is it different to the outer, wider world - why do these random people hate me so damn much for no reason at all?” His big eyes widened even further, his neck straining a bit to hold himself down.

“Why, man, why? I put it all on the line and I train, I do, _why?_ I’m the same as everyone else… and it’s not, it’s not even that important, I know, but that doesn’t stop me from…

“...hating being treated this way.” He buried his face in his hands.

I didn’t say anything. _Sometimes less is more, Mac._

I walked over to lock the door. The orange light had illuminated Sonic’s face; the door had still been open. Sitting down again silently, I put my arm around him.

There should’ve been things I could say, but I was lost for words.

His figure was no longer tall, proud or cocky, but deflated and defeated; his tone no longer jovial, sarcastic or bright, but bitter and caustic. There was someone, someone I would’ve liked to punch, to shield him from, to _physically_ protect him, to make him feel a little better as a friend, a brother, even, there should be something you _should be able to do_ , but when the blame is distributed amongst the thousands in a mob, an audience, a crowd; and how little they care about one Smasher in one sport in one city with their complex lives and difficult girlfriends and abandonment issues and expensive mortgage and travel insurance, there is nothing to be done.

_The visceral, physical bullet is easy to take for one, but the mental is another story._

I gripped his shoulder tighter.

“Bro…”

“Yeah?” I replied.

He paused, shivering. “It’s a little cold in here, you mind turning the aircon off?”

“Yeah, no problem at all.” I pressed a small yellow button.

The beep filled the dead air, before Sonic returned to his metaphysical hermitage.

_It’s not… I get it now. It’s not just about the defensive playstyle, because plenty of others have that too. It’s not about his speed, because others have that too. It’s sort of… random. It’s undeserved for Sonic… but it’s probably because, because one person hated him, or a few, people found it… trendy? If that’s the word? The guy everyone loves to hate?_

_But how do I say that?_

_I don’t._

Without stopping to let myself think again, I had to speak, or the silence would rot like bad fruit. “You... wanna talk about it now?”

“You go.”

“Well, I don’t have all the answers, Sonic.” I don’t know, really; it’s bloody unfair - you don’t deserve the hand that you got. It is undeserved, and I want you to know that you have full assurance from me over that.” The hedgehog nodded slightly.

“And even so… I understand the fact that you don’t necessarily want or need hordes of screaming fans, but hate the fact that you don’t, at least compared to others. We’re here, though, the whole gang, to help you figure it out. They might have the stardom, but we have a tight group that we’d kill to protect.

“We’ll walk you through this mess and no doubt, by the end of this, we’ll figure it out together, no matter how slowly.”

Sonic looked to his left right at me. “Thanks, Mac.”

“Anytime, brother.”

He smiled wistfully. “I just want to ask one thing.”

“Fire away.”

“What was that guy on about during Round Three?”

“Huh?”

“You know the one - tall, red hoodie.”

“I… what?”

“You walked outside to confront him, didn’t you?” He was pushing it a little.

“Yeah…?”

“What did he say?”

I was taken aback. “He just told me to screw off, and I chased him around a bit before he threatened to call the cops on me,” I lied.

“You were out there for like ten minutes.”

“Sonic, there’s nothing he said that was worth repeating.”

He gritted his teeth. “I still want to know.”

“You don’t.”

“Mac… I do. Even if it kills me, _I want to know._ ”

_I’d… I’d want him to be honest if we swapped roles. I guess it’s better to give him the hard truth now and let him know about it._

“He just said that you aren’t fun to watch. You play runaway a lot, and less aggressively, which I _have_ noticed… and that’s why he and a lot of fans didn’t but he exaggerated it a lot.”

“Is that it?”

 _“Unworthy… So many others worth the chance… don’t deserve…”_ His words echoed.

_Some things are left better unsaid, Mac._

“Yes. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna go. I need to be alone for a while.”

“Whatever you need, Sonic, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks for being such a great friend, Mac.”

“It’s just who I am.”

Sonic came forward and briefly embraced me.

Hugging him back felt more real and normal, and when he opened the door, the salute he gave, fast as a flash, felt more like him again. As quick as that, he disappeared, leaving only the orange light in the doorway.

But sitting on the carpeted steps, the soft carpeted stairs that led upwards to the bedroom, I felt something hollow in my chest that burned, even seared a little, and I felt that same aloneness sting me in the backside, in the pit of my stomach. Perhaps it was as though the interaction with my friend was so brief, and now that I was alone, it felt like the stool that was once there got kicked out from under me. The rope around my neck dug into the skin of my throat, and as I felt those rough cords bite into me, I fell unconscious by the bone of spine cracking under the weight of my own body.

I opened my eyes to the same, same orange light and I needed to escape.

  
• • • • •

**_( - Jubilife City | Pokémon X and Y - )_ **

  
  


For a Sunday night, the bar was pretty quiet. The mild smell of must lingered in the air. It wasn’t exactly nice, but it wasn’t horrible, and yet it was well-suited to the place.

There was some football playing on the TV. _Thankfully, they chose not to cast Smash today…_ Trying to get the conversation with Sonic out of my head, I absently walked forward, almost bumping into a waiter.

Patrons were lined up, with a few empty spaces here and there. One of them was a tall black-haired man, his height forcing his posture to hunch and stay down quite regrettably; another man, likely his buddy, talked to him in this husky voice animatedly about some residential business project they were running. The first man drank, nodding as he listened.

A few seats across from them, a young blond woman sat, above-average height for her sex, with fair but not pale skin. She wore a black tank top.

 _Should I? She, uh, could be quite stunning._ I couldn’t tell because her face was partially turned away, but otherwise looked quite fit. I didn’t really feel like it… but, girls were the one part of my life that wasn’t going down the drain. My purpose. My friends - hell, they were my family. My loneliness, even.

_Ah, screw it._

Thankfully, the seat next to her was empty. I plopped down into it. “Hey.”

“Evening.” The woman’s gaze stayed set.

 _Wait… is that?_ I looked her in the eye for a second and then I knew instantly.

This chick was bloody _Samus Aran_.

“Wait, Samus?” I grinned for a second.

“Little Mac,” she chuckled lightly. “It’s been awhile.”

“Not so little anymore, eh?” The first time we’d met was during that promotion video Master Hand had her do for me. At the time, I had no idea that the person in the orange-red suit was a woman, and I had a hard time thinking about her as more than a robot until she performed onstage with the skintight Zero Suit.

“Hmh.” Nothing but mild amusement.

“How goes it?”

“Well enough. You?”

“Honestly, not so much,” I laughed, “but that’s exactly why I’m here.”

“Thought you were, what, seventeen? A little young to be drowning your sorrows, no?”

“Nineteen now, and I didn’t come for the alcohol.”

“So you came for…?” Her poker face was impenetrable.

My internal throat gulped. “Came to explore a new place in the city, to get out of my own head, and stayed,” I paused, “for a certain blonde.”

“Charming,” she smirked.

“Always.” I didn’t know whether to turn red in embarrassment if I’d just made a big ass boo-boo, or keep up the facade.

“Barkeep?” The mustachioed man swivelled around, wiping a glass down with a white tea towel. “Another whiskey,” she said, raising the cylindrical glass. He nodded silently, pouring her another round.

“Y’know what, I might as well go for the same.”

“You sure, kiddo?” The final word had an ambiguous tone to it, dancing on the line between playful and disparaging.

“Sure I’m sure.” The bartender set down two glasses with the brown liquid in it.

It wasn’t my first time drinking whiskey, but the shit was _strong_ and left the taste of what pure ethanol smelled like in your mouth after. I drank half a mouthful down, and true to my memory, it was overpowering. I coughed. Samus laughed plainly, taking a sip of her own.

“Big balls in your shorts, eh?”

“You bet,” I replied, cringing at the aftertaste.

“Not bad for your first time.”

“Not my first.” I almost choked on the ‘i’ sound with the fire in my breath.

“Hm.” She continued staring at the TV. A Hispanic-looking man onscreen kicked the ball across the court, which was then intercepted by another guy in a yellow soccer jersey, black lines dancing across the shoulders. Suddenly, the commentator screamed, as the ball rocketed at lightspeed into one of the goals. Foam fingers and signs flew up in the crowd, and the second player yelled, celebrating with his teammates wildly. Then, the camera zoomed up close to the first Hispanic man as he buried his face in his hands, shivering.

_I know how that feels, bro._

“How have _your_ matches gone?” She faced me again with a neutral expression.

“If you’ve seen the leaderboard, you’d know.” I laughed, trying to make it sound relaxed, which it was, but there was some bitterness there.

“Don’t really bother with that nowadays. I get the whole ‘cutoff’ thing, but…” Her voice trailed off. “For some reason, can’t really see them removing me.”

“Heh, neither can I. Original eight, huh.”

She ignored the comment. “To be honest… Can’t imagine them actually implementing the cutoff.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Wouldn’t make sense. It’s just to build drama and tension. A lot of low-tiers are popular - why would they boot them off?” Her face tightened - kinda _cutely_ \- in thought. “There’s supposed to be power differences so upsets can happen, right?”

“Mmh.” I’d never considered that before, as it’d just seemed absurd that they’d lie about such a thing, but thinking about it… Samus was right.

_Too confusing for right now._

“Let’s stop talking about - er - work now, shall we?” I replied.

Samus laughed dryly. _Nice._ “I guess it technically is work, isn’t it.”

“I’m earning so little that if they hadn’t provided us apartments, I’d be homeless.”

She scoffed. “Anyway, what have you been getting up to in the offseason?”

“I actually had to go back and finish highschool.”

“Oh, really?” Samus raised her eyebrow, sipping her drink.

“Yeah, really. It was alright, I guess - I only had the senior year left when I came back; I graduated a year early, actually. Lots of parties, then lots of exams that I… well, eventually stopped giving a fuck about.”

“Nice… actually, I’ve always wondered what those are like.”

“Which?”

“Senior year parties.”

I scoffed. “It’s pretty much two things; alcohol and girls.”

“Huh - you don’t seem to be very experienced with the _former_.” Samus downed the most of the remainder of her whiskey.

“Well, I was short since I was a kid, so I had to get good at _compensation_ , I guess.”

Samus broke formation and giggled heartily at that. “Oh, my,” she laughed, faking offence.

“Oh, my indeed,” I paused, grinning, letting her finish. “Anyways, what did you do?”

“Mmh, killing aliens, invading bases, the like,” she responded, still with a smile, nonchalantly waving her hand. “Doesn’t really change after the first couple times you’ve risked your life.”

“I guess it doesn’t.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Samus confirmed. “Now, being invited back here… it does do a little good to have a break.”

“My home world is nowadays more of a break - Smash is now more the main course.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Boxing got a little boring, but I’ll see after this tournament.”

“I _also_ ,” she paused, flipping out her phone abruptly, “guess I’ll be seeing _you_ later. I’ve got to go.”

“Wow, really?” I was a bit taken aback at the conversation’s sudden end. “I mean… it’s only eight.”

“I’m a busy lady; things to do, and places to be, Little Mac,” she said. “Or should I just say, Mac?”

“Prefer the latter, but don’t really mind.” I raised my drink in cheers.

“It was nice talking to you,” she spoke, pushing her stool in while thrusting thirty dollars on the bench.

As she got up, I called out.

“Hey, Samus?”

“Yeah?” She turned around.

“Will I see you again?”

Samus hesitated for a second.

“If we cross paths.”

With that, she waved and spun on her heels, walking out of the bar. The bells slapped the side of the stained glass door as it slammed shut. The bartender grunted at me.

“Yeah?”

“I done never seen nobody start talkin’ to a’ Miss Samus like that before, sonny. They all done get their asses kicked.”

“Is that so?” I smiled, amused and a little proud.

“Damn straight.” He nodded at me approvingly, before a patron at the other side of the table called him over.

Remembering the way she said those last words, without any sense of finality, gave me a bit of hope. I’d initially come to forget, and when I first entered, I stayed to get with a beautiful girl, but talking to her was just plain enjoyable, that big wall, that impassible dry facade of hers. I liked her _style_.

The whiskey went lukewarm. _Eeugh._

I tossed some money on the bar table, and got up. I’d done what I came to do.

It was time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am moving this story back to Mature next chapter because of some uh upcoming events. ;)


	12. Under The Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“The lesser of two evils is still an evil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on, I'm putting up timeline stamps and music suggestions for each little section of the story! Enjoy!

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 12: Under the Table**

  
  


_ [ - Little Mac - ] _

  
  


_ Monday 10th August 2076, 18:26. _

_ Boop-boop. _ The transit card beeped on the e-reader, and I went to go sit down.

My thoughts floated back; the beautifully painted purple of the sky appeared in the background of my mind’s eye.

The back-and-forth with Samus yesterday burned into my brain, and it was a little confusing, but it was sort of like a cloth had been lifted over a big part of my life that I never really knew existed.

_ Do I want a girl? _

I started speaking and realised I almost said it aloud. Luckily, no one heard or bothered to look back at the absolute idiot on the bus talking to himself.

_ Do I want… a girl? If so, what would she look like, what would we do together… and who would she be? _

Looking at girls like Palu, who were beautiful and… desirable, and that I thought of in a more raw, masculine nature… spending time with her felt eccentrically cooling.

It felt pleasurable; it  _ was _ pleasurable, not simply or only because of her body, but the feminine energy she exuded and the laugh she called. But I don't think once had it crossed my mind that perhaps I would be in a situation in which I had a girlfriend, or a ‘partner’. Maybe it was because I never deemed myself worthy, or perhaps I wasn't really acknowledged enough by people, in high school, and even here.

More trees rushed by.

Two Wingull fought over a piece of bread on the sidewalk, pecking at each other rapidly. A larger one swept by, carrying the well-earned dinner in its mouth, flying off into the distance. Light reflected right off its blue striped wings. The other two birds hopped down and began placidly pecking at the crumbs remaining, seemingly unaffected by the exchange.

Girls.

_ The biggest weakness of man _ , Doc’d said.

This was just like Dante back at home - he’d gotten a girl. She was pretty as hell, and both of us knew it. She was a year below him. But, she had issues, and then they stopped talking halfway because they ‘didn’t know what they were’, and then she acted cold, and he turned off, and then aargh.  _ Damn. _

The bell tinged, and a gorgeous young brunette woman alighted, lightly skipping onto the pavement from the bus platform. I wondered what she was like; introverted or bubbly, open or secretive, honest or deceptive.

All these women on the bus were all different; and it was quite full, being six pm on a Sunday. A happy couple in their thirties; a middle aged group of women chattering to themselves, glad to get away from their husbands; an aloof-looking eighteen-year-old tapping away on her phone.

_ I want a girl. _

The thought had more popped into my head than I had actually  _ thunk _ it. It might’ve been the fact that I’d been feeling so goddamned lonely the last few days, or maybe it was because of all the time Palu and I spent together; maybe I was looking for that. Having a partner in crime might make things look up, even if just a little.

Palu.

The hydraulic pistons hissed again, and the bus started up. The entire scene; it was strangely placating, in it’s own uniquely weird way, the scintillating scenery that served to relax. In no other city I had been to, been able to travel to for the WVBA, had I seen anything like this - the urban was so peacefully intertwined with the natural - people from all over the ‘multiverse’ coming about to celebrate the same thing they loved, Smash.

She was my best friend already, and I’d known she was gorgeous, but maybe…?

_ Maybe. That’s all it is. _

The corner of the baby blue concrete building swept by and I frantically pushed the red button. The bus’ bell tinged as it abruptly pulled into the corner.

_ Leave it at that. _

There was something I was repressing; I was self-aware enough of that, but there was a time and place for everything. I tapped the card and leapt off the vehicle, watching my thoughts drift away into the distance as it started up once more, chugging off into the distance.

  
• • • • •

**_( - Veilstone City [Daytime] | Pokémon Diamond and Pearl - )_ **

  
  


The smell of the gym was homely and familiar, albeit unpleasant - the strong scent of leather would be overpowering had I not been used to it. There weren’t that many people in; this section of Jane’s fitness studio was private and only granted access to Smashers.

Right now, though, it was just Link, Roy and I. We barely ‘spoke’ - Roy yelled. Looking around the gym, it was quite the luxury to share this treasure of a facility amongst just three people. On the left side of the gym, there was a long row of monkey bars. Along the back, there was a long row of dumbbells and tough, black iron plates, starting thin and small on one end to thicker, more imposing on the other. Numbers, in increments of five or ten, printed in imposing white font on them punctuated their appearance. Barbells stood up in their dark stands, mildly serrated knurling followed by a smooth steel centre, then another section of knurling on their bodies. Medicine balls lay in the corner of varying shades of grey, the largest one fifteen kilograms, a hulking purple beast.

Lastly, three white punching bags filled the right end of the gym, of three different densities and thicknesses. Eyes adorned the bags - the different eye colours were difficulty indicators, positioned at their centres of mass.

I grabbed the bottle. I brought it to my mouth, tasting literal relief. My arms held a dull ache.  _ Water… _ I finished drinking and put the bottle back down. Across the room the Hylian warrior was doing pull-ups on the bar with ease.

In spite of his youth and age, Link was muscular. He had a narrow, agile frame and was below average height; but by the way he moved on the pullup bar, I knew not a single pound on his body was wasted - built for power and functionality. Link saw me and nodded with the hint of a smile, hands still firmly on the bar.

I nodded back to him as he continued his set. He’d had already done twelve or so without any signs of struggling; no loud exhales, no trembling.  _ That’s amazing - he makes it look like an art. _ He dropped from the bar lightly and landed without a sound.

On the other hand, Roy, ‘the young lion’ roared just like one, even without his flashy armor with that medieval sheen on. He stood in the squat rack, flexing his biceps, hands firmly gripping the knurling of the barbell, each rep causing a small blood vessel in his arm to pop out a millimetre or so.

“Ahghaa!!” The pained scream he let out finishing his set, red in the face, was animalistic and was followed by him slamming the barbell to the floor. It bounced twice.

It weighed thirteen kilograms.

“You really do live up to your name, hey, young lion?” I commented.

Luckily, he couldn’t discern the snark.

He laughed, slightly embarrassed, but nodded. “Yeah, s’pose I do, heh, ‘bruiser from the Bronx’.” It wasn’t unkind, but I snorted lightly.

“What was up with that upset against Game and Watch?” Roy was an interesting character, to say the least; with the range of his sword and the passion he brought to matches, it was shocking that he’d fallen against an opponent who seemed to have neither.

“Meh, it was nothing,” he said, despite the hint of a flush showing in his ears. “Just a fluke - it won’t  _ ever _ happen  _ again _ . What about you and Ganondorf, hey?”

“Hey, I got close. Few seconds was that deciding factor, I guess.”

“Ah, well, that’s a shame.” Roy walked off, seemingly nonchalant.

It was almost as if he interpreted me asking about his game as a… slight to his pride.

_ Well, what a productive conversation. _ I strode over to the other side of the gym, only to find a large humanoid ‘cat’ with red and white fur entering the room.

_ Are you meant to call cats ‘it’ or ‘he’?  _ Its arms and legs were jacked, complete with four-pack abs and broad pecs.

_ I mean if it was human it’d be a guy, but that’s not the problem… _ Its crowning glory, however, was its belt of fire, small circular embers dancing around its hip.

_ Okay, definitely a he. _

_ Cats don’t wear goddamn wrestling belts. _

Despite his broad frame, he only looked a few inches taller than I. “Hey man.” I extended my hand. “They call me Little Mac, but I just go by Mac nowadays.”

“In-cineroar!” With gusto, he shook it.  _ Ah, so that was the guy - the Pokémon - in the cutoff slot I read about, Incineroar, hey? _ “Incin?” He pointed to the nearby pullup bars in interest.

“Never been to a gym before?” He shook his head. “Cin.”

“Okay, so those bars over there are for you to hang on, like the ledge at the edge of the Smash stage.” He considered it for a moment, then strode over to it. 

“Mmh, so you wanna give that a try?” He grabbed one of the bars, opposite a questioning Link, whose expression turned from amused to impressed. Despite appearing extremely heavy for his frame, Incineroar looked smooth on the bars.

“One, two, three, that’s actually pretty good already,” I interjected, barely able to keep up with him for the initial reps, “four, five,” I continued, as he slowed down. He hung dead on the bar. Flexing his arms, he roared.

“Six, come on!”

Incineroar dropped down again on the bar like a block of lead.

“C’mon, get seven.” He pulled, and pulled, and as he gradually ascended, his body shaking, Incineroar let out a cry.

As he yelled out, the fiery weight belt of his burned brightly, singing my hair.

“JESUS!” I yelled, throwing myself to the floor, hands on my face. I heard Roy drop his barbell and run over. Instead of helping, though, he said enthusiastically, “Wow! That was cool - another fire specialist! Nice to meet you-”

Incineroar jumped down from the bar and roughly pushed Roy aside. The big cat offered me a hand, scratching his head all the while.

“Cin?” I grabbed it gratefully.

He joined his index and thumb together in an ‘OK’ sign.

I laughed. “Haha, it’s alright - just be careful next time, yeah?”

Roy shook his head, muttering under his breath as he retreated to the squat rack.

“Okay, I think that’s enough pull-ups for a day.” Out of the corner of my eye, Link smiled, amused at our antics. Incineroar’s sheepishness was replaced in an instant with the same curiosity and adventurousness; he looked around the facility in slight wonder, cocking his head.

“I’m about to do some bench press. Why don’t you join me? I can show you some new stuff if you’d like.” He nodded, grinning. “Cin.” He got on the bench snugly.

“Uh… Incineroar?” The Pokémon looked up.

“You’re lying down the wrong way…” He raised his eyebrow, looking at the position of the bar right above his fiery wrestling belt, nowhere  _ near _ his chest or arms.

“Rrngh.” Incineroar rose without any change in his facial expression before pumping out a minute’s worth of reps with no issue.

_ This creature…  _

The door opened suddenly, and Jane’s tall figure approached. “Mac, there you are! Good to see you, bud!”

“Heya, Jane.” I re-racked the bar for Incineroar right as he finished his set.

“I see you’ve met Incineroar already!” Her warm glow was starkly different to the cold shoulder I got the last time I saw her, which felt like ages ago, despite only being like four days.

“Wait, he’s a regular? I thought he was new - he looked at everything like it was his first time here!”

“Curiosity kills the cat, but this cat won’t kill his curiosity.” Jane replied.

Incineroar’s grin grew eerily wide.

“Mmh.”

She laughed. “Do you want to go train specialised Smash? I know you were in the middle of a set, but, er, I have something I want to test out for you.”

“Oh, really? Yeah, sure. Incin, wanna join?” The cat growled happily in response.

“Good to hear,” Jane exclaimed. Even though her back was turned, I heard the smile in her voice, and couldn’t help but feel fuzzy. Link waved a goodbye as we left.

Jane ran both the gym-fitness and the Smash studios, so instead of having a separate entrance for each, there was simply one reception and one corridor. The hidden door on the left led to the Smash studio, whereas the big entry on the right led to the one with weights from which we came.

She unlocked the door, jogging to the other side of the room into the control area Pit was so fascinated with the other day. “Actually, Incineroar, I reckon this is where you come in. Get into the Loading Chamber.”

He re-emerged after thirty seconds, with a nod of his head, gesturing for me to get in. The machine whirred a couple times with a few spinning bright green lights.

“Mac - the iron pad.”

“Gotcha.” I stepped onto the plate. Incineroar extended his closed fist to me.

I bopped it.

Next thing I knew, I awoke to the sound of a muffled voice. “Mac…? Mac!”

“Yeah…?”

“Snap out of it, we’re training.”

“Okay, okay!” Incineroar growled at me from across the stage.

“Mac, I want you to practice some K.O.’s today. Sparingly use it, because Incineroar’s gonna take a beating on your behalf.”

“What do you mean?”

“Catch.”

“What?”

Jane disappeared behind the glass and brought out a small... energy bar? She dropped it down a chute.

Out of thin air, the small purple-packaged chocolate bar landed in my hands. “This is something that I asked the lab to formulate - it gives you the K.O. punch instantly, Mac."

"Isn't that  _ illegal _ ?"  _ Smash Athlete Barred From All Tournaments Following Doping Scandal. _ The words echoed in my mind's eye.

"Of course, it’s illegal to use in combat, but it’s useful in training and wears off in the short term, so you're good. Go on, eat it up.”

Incineroar gave me a puzzled and somewhat concerned look as I chomped on it. It burst with crunchy sweetness, and my mind immediately got cast back to Doc; he used to  _ love  _ these - in fact, he always used to joke that his beer belly wasn’t from alcohol but actually from sugar. My chewing slowed because of the stickiness, and blood rushed into my jaw, tensing it up. I grimaced.

“Uh, Jane?”

“Hmm?”

“Where do I chuck this out?”

She burst out laughing, banging her fist on the glass. “Oh, Mac… Just chuck it over the side.” The cat Pokémon opposite too chuckled, offering me a hand for the wrapper.  _ Old habits. _ I passed it to him, shaking my head.

Suddenly, my vision went black and my entire body went hot. I felt it, as though the heat was melting my skin, outside of my own body. Two hands grabbed my side; they were warm and furry - then there was a dark... blur. I found myself staring at the infinitely high blast zone.

I’d almost fallen over the side of the stage when he'd caught me. His eyes looked off, and fire seemed to be coming off his entire body - not just his belt. Everything looked saturated with colour and I felt like vomiting.

Closing my eyes, Jane yelled, “Mac, are you alright?” It was so loud. I heard the veins throb in my forehead - one, two, then  _ three _ , four; the skin around them moved and shifted to meet their demands.

“There’s so much, so much happening, Jane," I panted, "what the hell?”

“Mac, use your K.O. punch on Incineroar!”

“WHAT? HOW?”

“Just do it! Feel the rush through your body; you’ll know it when it happens!!”

I saw Incineroar brace himself. I flexed my right fist, bringing it up an inch to ready myself. It flared white hot and abruptly  _ burned through the restraint I put on it _ .

My fist flew upwards, and Incineroar rocketed to the sky.

  
  


• • • • •

_ [ - The omnipresence of God - ] _

**_( - N/A - )_ **

  
  


_ Tuesday 11th August 2076, 01:52 _

"Clovis." A singular tone rang out as the dark man's hands went to work, picking up the phone with a deliberate grasp.

"I see you're not one for niceties, hey?" The other man's nasal voice laughed, an eerie sound in the black of the garage. His giggle was effeminate and oily; the person speaking behind the phone only made it more revolting. "So, what did you call me so late for?"

"Clovis, I'm telling you right now that Operation Solenoid isn't going to work."

"You never opposed it before… and you aren't and  _ can't be _ our only source of capital for this project, mind you."

"We both know we need more money for this; that's a given. But did it never cross your mind blatantly nerfing unpopular fighters is bound to get called out by fans,  _ Clovis _ ?" He hissed the last word at the glib man.

Radio silence on the other end of the line.

“It does more good than harm to this. If they complain… well, the old fighters will soon be forgotten, with so many new Smashers we have yet to invite. This cutoff makes sense.”

“In with the new, out with the old? Is this what this is turning to?”

A high-pitched laugh came from the other end. The man wiped dust off his overalls and cringed at the grating noise. “How humorous! I thought you yourself should understand as an engineer. Isn’t your job, your  _ career _ , centered around optimising the new in favour of the old?”

"You aren't wrong about that… but if you won't budge, I need a favour."

"Mmh-hmm?" It was tauntingly sing-song, the voice on the other end, how full of himself and power-hungry he was, the sick pervert.

"Fighter number forty-nine."

"What about  _ fighter number forty-nine _ ?"

"He is in a rather precarious position on the leaderboard; if someone gave him a little nudge upwards, I don't think anyone would notice."

"Oh? Mr. Ethan Williams, thinking about anyone but  _ himself _ ?" Without waiting for a response, he giggled and continued. "How lovely. But, we both know that's impossible, isn't it? After all, you said it would be too obvious for a fighter’s position to be shaped - no?"

"It's one fighter - in fact, the final leaderboard doesn't need to be made public, does it? Fighters who got in, or out, they can be told that individually, can they not?"

"Those silly fans and analysts and whatever… we both know how much they fancy their tier lists and rankings and all that; now, on to more pre-"

"I'm stopping you there. You tell me  _ who _ is supplying 31.5% of the funds for this operation? If just under a third of the money for this goes missing… I'm not sure it could go through successfully, now, could it?"

"Now, now,  _ Ethan _ , all you needed to do was ask! Ask and it will be given, my golden boy. Our very own…” There was the sound of clicking in the background. “-Little Mac will be in the Ultimate tour - scout's honour." Venom trailed, oozing, from his tone.

"Alright, Clovis - I have one more demand."

"You're getting on my nerves, Mr. Williams… Go on, my  _ friend _ ."

"Nerfs for fighter twenty-four. If you're going to implement the cutoff, I want him  _ gone _ ."

"Too late. He's thirty-seventh on the roster, or as they say - ‘likely high-tier’,” he scoffed, “with one fight left to go. It would be far too obvious; Ethan, I'm sure even  _ you _ would be able to understand that."

"Hmph, alright then. What did you say you wanted to tell me, then?"

"Since research began, the geeks have discovered two things. The first is the particle that radiates enough dark matter. The geeks have dubbed it a CORN - a Cold Originated Radiating Nucleon. They call it that, a cold originated particle, because it only arises from pair annihilation - when one particle and its parallel collide. Upon observation, flashes of very faint reddish light are found when this occurs.”

“There sounds like a ‘but’ in that sentence, Clovis.”

“Patience, Ethan. As I was saying… it is borne out of pair annihilation, which makes it  _ extremely unstable _ . The CORN’s lifespan is less than half a picosecond.”

“Hmph. Well, you mentioned something else?”

“The mountains in northwest Aurest. Them and their wonderful colours; they’re caused by reacting certain transition metal complex ions with other naturally occurring substances. Now, this sounds well and truly fair enough, except for one thing. The only metal complexes that generate them are cobalt and iron, both of which are naturally ferromagnetic… yet, no traces of magnetism are found in the area.”

“That sounds more a coincidence than anything else, Clovis.”

“I like to be precise in my calculations, Mr. Williams… but this  _ is _ a lead we have to work with; further, no other radiation emits light - and radiation levels in the area are significantly higher than here in Smashville. Why do you think few animals reside in the vicinity?”

“Hmm.”

“Now, I’ll leave you with that - I've got to go get my beauty sleep. Ta-ta!"

The hangup tone was final, and the man sighed, putting his phone on the table. The particles had been made.

But the most important thing wasn’t that; no, he didn’t even care about Mewtwo - he would take care of him if it got to that; if it was necessary. A massive weight felt as though it was off his shoulders, and to an extent, he wondered whether it was just waiting for him to be off guard before tumbling back down again.

It would be awhile before it felt like a reality.

_ Mac is in. _

_ Mac  _ is  _ in. _

_ Oh… this is just the beginning. _


	13. Reset to Neutral (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of a 3 part special where the gang goes for a day long trip to an island! Lots of activities and lots of things that they don't kniw about each other or about themselves that is about to be uncovered....

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 13: Reset to Neutral (Part 1)**

  
  


_ [ - Little Mac - ] _

  
  


_ Tuesday 11th August 2076, 07:31  _

"Mac, wake up bud!"

The room I was in was unfamiliar. I’d never been here before. Seeping chills dissolved down my spine and in a flash, my palms began to flood themselves.

"What the- where am I? I don't remember coming here-"

"You're at mine, silly," Jane's face popped into view, her gray hair dangling from her head. "The KO protein bar knocked you out, so I took you home."

"SHI- DAaaamn!"

"Are you okay?!" There was liquid  _ in my head _ .

"The effects still haven't fully worn off, have they?”

“Yeah, Jane.” I cradled my head. “Jesus… this is- this is  _ bad _ .”

“Should I tell her you’re not right to go?”

“What?”

“You didn’t know?”

“What are you talking about?” My heart had been evicted from its house in my chest and decided to take a holiday in my brain because a vein in my skull  _ throbbed _ .

“Palutena’s sorta impromptu arranged a getaway for us today; she wants to head off to an island off the east coast of Smashville. I mean, no one’s got prelims today; she’s thinking Falcon drives us there on that speedboat of his, we go there, stay the night, return first thing next morning.”

“That sounds hella fun!” I shot up further. Black dots peppered my sight. My thumb dug into Jane’s wrist tightly as I lost balance.

“Are you sure, Mac?”

“Yeah, screw it,” I waved my hand as now the spots turned grainy and green.

Her eyes stared into mine, presumably concerned, but I couldn’t tell.

  
• • • • •

**_( - Beneath the Mask | Super Smash Bros. Ultimate - )_ **

  
  


“Hey, Palu. Uh… sorry.” Her face gazed back, a bit confused. “-for snapping at you the other day; I was just kinda uptight.”

“No worries, Mac,” she laughed, unfazed. “I get it, being alone after losing a bad fight, head injuries and all that, you were probably a little on edge.” I nodded, noticing Pit’s face brightened up too upon my saying that.

Everything was good, or at least, better. The migraine that I sustained had ironically gotten better just being on the boat.  _ Could be the smell of the salt _ .

The scent off the side wasn’t strong or overpowering like that of a fish market, but reminded me of the mild tang of the waves down in Australia when I’d gone there. I remembered the pleasant smell as… funnily enough,  _ slow _ .

Palu’s idea was much welcomed after the stale aloneness of the last two days. The days weren’t tiring, but I felt lethargic with poor sleep and unproductive, simply  _ flaccid _ days; and after going out each time I did, the lull felt dark and uninviting, and I wanted to truly get away from it all for a full day instead of just a third or a half of one.

“Where’d you get the idea from, actually? I mean - I like it and all, but seems a li’l out of the blue to me.”

She smiled serenely. “I’ve been wanting a chance to get out with you sometime, and I think this is the first day since  _ Tournament 4 _ everyone’s free. There was an island that I’d been wanting to go to for a while, so I put two and two together - here we are!” 

“Mmh.”

The speedboat lurched right. Palu and Jane screamed out. Someone grabbed my wrist tightly. Water soaked my hair.

“What the hell?” R.O.B. worriedly gripped the magnetic rail tighter.

“Always stay on yer guard, gang,” Falcon laughed at the wheel.

“Crap,” Pit’s wings were dripping wet.

“How long more we got, Falcon?”

“About fifteen more minutes, sonny. Why, it ain’t botherin’ ye that much, eh?” He chortled again, returning to navigation without a response.

Pit shook his head, smiling. “Yeah, like Mac said, it was a good idea, Lady Palutena - actually, what have ya got planned for today?”

“We’ll figure it out as we go. Heard there’s a DJ coming on tonight too.”

“Sounds pretty good to me,” Jane piped up.

The approaching rectangular-ish spot of golden yellow extended, and the island was coming up on the horizon. With that, I felt a little more at home with people I loved. The euphoria and elation that brewed inside was numbing, just a bit, but it was welcomed. I heard Palu’s silky tones, Pit’s excited chirps, Sonic’s sarcastic remarks, but couldn’t fully discern what they were saying. Blurry waves joined each other and over, and the pulsing feeling in my gut whenever the boat went over them, up, down, up, and it was complete.

Simply sitting there, eyes and ears glazing over, I was a little more at peace with myself.

“Looking forward to it.”

“So am I,” Palu replied, putting an arm around my shoulder.

  
• • • • •

A bellhop disappeared into the elevator silently with the duffel bags on the cart.

“What do you mean, only two rooms - we booked three?”

“Ma’am, it says here you only booked two - otherwise, we’re all full.”

“Okay… alright, what can we do about it?”

“I can move one of them up to a family suite if you want something slightly bigger.”

“How much extra is it?”

“If we apply the discount…” the man punched a few numbers into a calculator, “SC$153.”

She muttered something under her breath and passed her card to the man behind the counter, who took it with the blankest of expressions.

“Thank you and have a nice stay,” he replied, handing out the two card keys. 

Approaching the lift, Palu shook her head. “I could’ve sworn we just got scammed; wait, Pit, did you put in three or two?” She cocked her head at the young angel.

“I’m preeeeetty sure I put in three,” Pit spoke nervously.

Palu stared daggers at him, forcing Pit to change his answer.

“Ehh… ya told me to book two?”

“Oh, Pit, you must’ve been hearing things,” Palu jibed.

“No, I’m pretty sure ya said two.”

She turned slightly red. “No, I remember telling you distinctly to get three, silly.”

“Ah, well, then, I don’t know…” He scratched his head.

Falcon interrupted. “Eh, we’ll squeeze in. I reckon we could split well enough between the suite and the room.”

The carpeted lift lobby on the fourth floor was like any classic five-star hotel I’d seen before. Dark-coloured carpets with random splashes of red and green, with beige brown walls and gentle bossa nova music playing, only to be interrupted by Sonic shouting, “shotgun the suite!” He raced out with the key card in hand. Pit ran after him, calling his name, not to be outdone.

“I sometimes wonder how we ever became friends,” I shook my head.

Jane nodded. “I guess I’ll have to  _ supervise _ them,” she laughed. Pulling her coat over tighter, she walked off in their direction.

“Ah, boys will be boys,” Falc laughed, ruffling R.O.B.’s head as though he had hair. Walking down the corridor with a pack on his back, he turned back as if to say something, letting his beloved robot walk in front of him, unaware of his master lagging behind. I swore a fraction of a smile prodded the corners of his mouth, but with that, he turned right and disappeared around the corner; then, there were no further words spoken.

Palu and I were left right outside the lift lobby. “Well, I guess that just leaves us two then.” There was a slight twinkle in her voice.

“Mmh.”

“Do you want to take the single room with me?” Something about her tone was a little off.

“Guess I’ve got no choice, right?” I smirked. Strangely enough, she didn’t receive that very well, raising an eyebrow and walking off.

_ I didn’t think she was gonna be pissed off today of all days… _

I shrugged and joined her.

• • • • •

  
  


“So, how did you guys meet, Falc? I mean, you and Jeremy, that hotel manager guy - managers don’t normally drive guests, right?”

Falcon nodded. “We done been good pals for awhile, which is sorta why he offered to pick us up in person, y’know. Believe it or not, ‘ah didn’t go back to my own universe after  _ Tournament 4 _ \- Jane knows about this,” he commented, “but in fact, I’d stayed here. Came here once tuh’ relax, then found this girl who was struggling out in the water.

“I started to swim out, but then this other guy who I didn’t know at the time swam out with me. We got the girl back onshore and safe in the end; now,” he came closer to the table, more quickly gesticulating about, “turns out, even with this massive ole belly o’ his, Jeremy can swim pretty damn fast.”

“Not very aerodynamic, hey?”

“Idiot, aerodynamic isn’t even the right word,” Sonic hissed.

Falcon ignored them. “Later, we talked about it, and he ain’t even been a lifeguard; he’d just came by for a li’l chill at the beach as the manager and owner of the entire resort and such, and we’d gone out for poker and pool and the like throughout that holiday.” He nodded, consolidating the end of his story. “Good times.”

“How long ago was that?” Jane asked.

“A half year after y’all left. What have the rest of youse been doin’ in the meantime - actually, what about you yourself, Jane?”

“Uh, not much aside from growing the studio, really,” Jane commented. Shards of dull sadness punctuated her sentence that could’ve easily gone unnoticed had I been savouring the rich cream of the carbonara as much as I was a second ago. “I did fly out once to the mountains in north Aurest in 2075.”

Pit gave her a confused look. “Aurest?”

“The continent that Smashville is a part of,” she patiently explained. “The mountains are used whenever the tournament is on to house the villainous; of course, to ensure people living in Smashville don’t actually  _ die _ , but in the off-season, it’s pretty peaceful.”

“Do you have any photos?”

Jane nodded. “Quite a few. Wait, let me pull up one really quickly…” She swiped a couple times down on her phone, leaving the table in a waiting silence for a few seconds.

“Here you go.” She showed me the image.

_ Wow. _

Jane stood, her back facing the camera, in the left third of the photo. A bead of sweat formed on her forehead. She wore a tough-looking brown rucksack, beautiful grains of blood-red, scarlet sand surrounding her. The sky above was a light blue - with the sun out of sight, the photo felt five degrees cooler. Pit complained about not being able to see it, sitting opposite to me.

_ For good reason. _ The star, the star of it all was the omnipresence of the mountainous mass behind her, standing tall and proud. They were painted all different colours, some stained an off-white, but most others were a confident red, all standing together like brothers. Falcon stared at the photo, engrossed.

“That’s absolutely gorgeous, Jane.”

“I know, right?” Her smile shone as she turned to give a begging Pit a look at the photo.

“Who’d you go with?” Sonic asked. Something felt off when he said that, and when I realised that she herself was in the photo, I realised what it was.

_ Shit. _

“Some work friends came with,” she said coldly.

Sonic was about to speak. I panicked slightly, until Palu piped up, casting me a knowing glance. “What about you, Mac? You left from  _ Tournament 4 _ immediately last year, you wet sack - you weren’t even at the closing ball!”

“Yeah, you’re right about that. If you guys don’t recall, I had grade eleven finals at the end of that year, so I really had to go even though I didn’t really give a damn for 'em.”

“What about after that?”

“Hmm, well, my senior year was an adventure. I turned eighteen halfway through, had a revelation that I probably didn’t want to go to college.

“Then, 2075 was the best year of my life up to that point; got to participate in more championships; I went to Beijing in February, Sydney in April,” Their faces were all blank. “Well, those are different cities in countries around  _ my _ world,” I waved my hand. “Then, early 2076 wasn’t the best; Doc… well, let’s just say he isn’t here anymore.” I bit my lip. R.O.B. rested a hand on my lap, his circular eyes turning a concerned crescent shape.

“Yeah, it was tough. Uh, I’d gotten the invitation for  _ Ultimate _ a couple weeks,” cars, blue and yellow, raced past the window of the restaurant, “after he passed, and I don’t really know why I decided to say yes given how bad,” I averted my gaze to the street and god damn it looked appealing to go out there right now, “I was feeling. I-I guess I accepted the offer out of loneliness, I suppose.”

I held the glass of water and drank from it, the condensation moistening my fingers.

“Mac, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Her honey tones made my heart skip, compounding the unease I felt.

"Hey, it ain't your fault. I don't wanna be a downer; y’know, today's… today’s a good day. Doc woulda loved to be here with us, no doubt - but he's not.” ‘Mmh's sounded from around the table, though Sonic looked especially uncomfortable. Pit nervously shifted in his seat, poking the food at a distance with his fork like it was the one to bite  _ him _ .

“I reckon he would've wanted us to enjoy these precious moments together; he always banged on about being appreciative of family and all that - and y’know, that’s what you guys are to me. You’re like- no, y’all  _ are _ my family.” 

Jane laughed. “Oh, Mac; I’m with you. We’re past just friendship at this point.”

“Thanks, man.” Pit grinned anxiously, his eyes set at a weird angle like he was staring  _ through _ me.

“Ever the sentimental, Mac; but I fully agree,” Palu raised.

“Cheers,” the Captain raised his glass, jaw set in a strong line. "To this dysfunctional ol’ family of ours." 

"To family." Everyone else chimed, and the unity in the glasses’ clink seemed to calm the disharmony within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter comes a five week hiatus from me.
> 
> Yeah, I'm really sorry guys, but I have finals coming up. I'll still write but the pressure to finish chapters during this time is gonna be too much so I'm pausing it formally for a bit. Dont worry, between mid November and the New Year I'll be releasing more.
> 
> If you're bored, go back and read chapters 1 through 12; I've aded music recommendations, improved pacing etc, if you're interested :)
> 
> Last, the insta has changed to @littlemac.ssbu; do check out the discord aswell!!
> 
> Please leave a kudos or a review, that would help me so much! As always, take care and stay safe. Mac and the gang will be fine haha.


	14. Reset to Neutral (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac enjoys the company of his people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goodness... It's been a while.
> 
> I'm so, so sorry for leaving y'all this long, but exams are finally done. I'm uploading this one half a day early because I have my graduation ceremony tomorrow, but yeah. I plan to keep working on this and absolutely appreciate any reviews as always! Enjoy, my people!! Mac's been going good!

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 14: Reset to Neutral (Part 2)**

  
  


_ [ - Little Mac - ] _

**_( - Virbank City | Pokémon Black and White - )_ **

  
  


_ Tuesday 11th August 2076, 15:22 _

“Heya, homegirl.”

“Hi, Mac!” Jane replied.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Just tidying up some documents for the gym.”

Palu, being the absolute sleepyhead she was, was napping in my room, so I decided to head over to the five-person suite occupied by the others.

“Mind if I take a look?”

“I don’t mind,” she opened up her laptop towards me. “You don’t need to ask.”

There were multiple tabs populating the screen, each labelled WORKOUT followed by a name or two. 

“These are the different prescribed programs for your… your clients?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn, you never take breaks, Jane. We’re on holiday.” She giggled.

On the document Jane was currently on, she’d listed out five different exercises.  _ Plank… push ups… squats… dead-hangs… sit ups…  _ The workout was fairly simple, basic and not too strenuous - it wasn’t yet custom-made for the client.

“Wait…” I peered up at the top of the tab.

“Yeah?”

Sonic ran over from the other side of the room. “I’m borreed. Whatcha doin’, Li’l Mac?”

“Shut up for a sec, Sonic.” I turned to look at Jane, eyebrows raised.

“Jeez, okay,” he grumbled, running off somewhere.

I pointed at the document’s label, being careful not to prod the screen too hard. “Jane, is this the same…?”

“Yeah, Mac.”

“The same one from the restaurant?”

“Yeah!” Jane laughed heartily.

“ _ Rupert _ asked you to train him? You never told me  _ that _ .” The thought of the pimply, awestruck teenager training with and alongside Jane was  _ shocking _ , not in any negative sense or connotation of the word, but the juxtaposition between one of my best friends and a fan overlapping was almost as though two entirely different worlds were colliding.

I was happy for Rupert, though - he’d enjoy those sessions a lot, to train amongst his favourite Smashers...  _ if _ he just dropped the nerves.

“I was going to, but it slipped my mind,” Jane replied.

“No problem, Jane. Have y’all started yet?”

“We haven’t begun training yet, actually; when we get back home, I think he wants to do… Thursday? I don’t have my calendar on me.”

“Niiiice.”

“I’m really looking forward to it!”

“Damn, someone sounds excited.” I couldn’t help but grin at her enthusiasm.

“Yeah, I really am. I think it’s because… Rupert’s confidence… well, it isn’t  _ bad _ for his age. But it could use some work, and exercise helps you find your feet and feel more comfortable in your own body. If I could be part of that transformation for Rupert… I think that would feel amazing.”

“Mmh, no doubt.” I retreated from the standing position looking over her shoulder, to the armchair opposite.

“Jane?”

“What’s up, Mac?”

“You’ve been away quite a couple o’ times these last couple weeks… are you alright?”

Jane paused for a second, her pretty gray eyes glazed over looking at the laptop screen. Her head flickered up quickly, and she flashed a smile. “Yeah. I’m amazing. It’s just there are a lot of things… nowadays, to do with the gym.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded with conviction, her vision cleared. “I’m trying to make this big. This gym has the potential to make it, Mac. Just this last year, I’ve hired three new trainers for group sessions. We’re in a good position, too, in the suburbs.”

“That’s great to hear, homegirl. What’s the goal?”

“What do you mean?”

“For the gym.”

Jane scrunched up her forehead. “Hmm… Mac, that’s a pretty good question…” She looked off into the distance with the mere hint of a smile, resting a hand on her chin, scratching it periodically.

She stayed like that for a while, cocking her head a couple times, moving like I imagined her thought to be, considering my question. To be honest, out of all of us, Jane was probably the most driven to be successful. I suppose I was up there as well, but she had this energetic passion about her whenever she was doing something she loved. Jane’s pure fiery passion and love for the gym was there in spades, I could see that much.

In comparison, for instance - Palu - she was passionate about improving herself and us, though not necessarily about any external factor. After all, she was essentially jobless whenever she was here. Her approach was a lot more methodical, careful and poised - just like a goddess - as though she was overseeing the whole operation from a bird’s eye view. It was strange to think that despite those two being best friends, and having the same vibrant, feminine energy about them, they had completely different work styles.

“Mac, I honestly have no idea,” Jane said, interrupting my train of thought.

“Mmh.” She placed her laptop on the table opposite. “I can see that, especially coming from you.”

Jane chuckled. “To me, I think, having a concrete end goal isn’t  _ that  _ important.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just… every time I get a new customer, or every time one leaves the gym ten times fitter than before, every time that happens… I think,  _ that’s _ what motivates me; not any particular end goal that I want to achieve by any arbitrary date.”

The gaze in her eyes turned starry. “I feel so rewarded and fulfilled. I think I guide people to make positive changes in their lives, making them healthier and more confident and less susceptible to a hundred and one diseases. The look in their faces every time I see them at the beginning of each lesson changes over time, from hope, to,” she giggled, “a bit of  _ dread _ , to finally confidence and satisfaction…

“It’s like, I think, I’m making new life friends along the way. And, I think, to be a part of their journey is so significant, for them and for me… but, I think, it’s not just that I’m making that positive change in other people’s lives…”

Her voice trailed off, and the unfocussed look in her eyes remained, but had sunken from the sky to the earth; just like when we’d gone out for lunch, she was somewhere else yet again.

“Jane, you good?” I got up, slightly uneasy.

She looked up to me, eyes a little sullen, but her smile still held. Albeit… somewhat nervously. I followed the angle of her eyes to the pale, light yellow that faded into the wall. Right underneath that was a line of white wood, the juncture between the yellow-painted concrete and the carpet. Its surface was glossy in comparison to the rougher, more textured finish of the wall.

It dawned on me Jane had been staring at absolutely nothing the last minute and a half.

“Uh… yeah, Mac.” She nodded, eyes glazing over. “I’m fine.”

Looking in her eyes like I’d done many times before, it felt strange. I suddenly realised it was because she wasn’t staring at me, but  _ past _ me.

“Yeah. I’m amazing, Mac.”

There was something telling me that not everything was as it seemed, and that Jane was hiding something that she had no intention of saying, at least not here, not right now. All the times she just closed off from any conversation about Ian, her multiple absences from the group even though the outings, the lunches, the celebrations after matches, were all relatively brief… it couldn’t  _ just _ have been the gym strictly speaking; no, not at all. There was something she was enduring that no one knew - or maybe they did, but didn’t share… if it was anyone, it would be either Falc or Palu - Falc was the first one to get to know her out of all of us; and Palu was her best bud, talking about things only other girls would get - as a guy, I could get that.

But no, no, that wasn’t my place.

I didn’t want to hear it from someone unless it was absolutely necessary, and I wanted to feel raw if and when she told me, so I could be fully present instead of preparing for it. I wanted to be there for Jane, to protect her and to be there for her. Whenever she was ready, I would be there, to walk with her through the darkness that was eating away at her from the inside.

_ That’s what a man does. _

Hearing his words again resounded in my ears. A pang of love escaped from my chest.

“I love you like a sister.”

“I love you too, Mac,” she said, cocking her head with a wistful smile.

  
• • • • •

  
  


Wind.

That seemed to be a common motif everywhere I went - it’d punctuated any atmosphere really nicely, because not only was it sensually cooling and appealing to the senses and the skin and the touch… but because it just made every night, especially around six to eight in the evening, the Goldilocks zone right as the sun was setting, with the faint touch of the sensation of getting out of a shower, all the more visceral and memorable and physical.

In the most natural of ways, it was just  _ good _ . It made me feel as though I was real, and in the moment, too; and I always tended towards the cold rather than the hot because I tended to sweat like a dog. The wind I was familiar with was always so gentle and cooling like that, and that made it all the more enjoyable.

Perhaps it was because of the association of the late afternoon, early evening breeze - the feeling of excitement I got because I was about to go see Palu, Pit or anyone else. The night outings were more like an adventure, and we rarely went out in the morning anyways - the sensation was enthralling and uplifting.

More violent winds sometimes got annoying, blowing hats off heads and hoodies from their perch, but even then compared to the other options for strong, domineering weather: foreboding, saddening clouds, or the harsh, oppressive sunlight, it was just… nicer, for lack of a better word, and no doubt more pleasant.

It brushed against my face, partially shielded by the cotton hood.

“How are you, Pit? We haven’t really gotten the chance to talk that much as of the recent.”

“Dude, I’m arright. Sorta just enjoyin’ life right now, though; it was nice to come out with ya today. After all those… er, losses, ya sorta dropped off the map in some ways.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” I laughed. “Thankfully, round four was much better, though.”

I rested the weight of both elbows on the smooth wood railing on the open roof of the hotel. The wind shouted a little louder, not so much as a roar, but the gust ruffled a few loose strands of hair even comfortably nestled in the hoodie.

“Mac, mind if I ask ya a question?

“Sure, go for it.”

“I dunno, how d’ya do it?” He pinched a lock of his auburn hair and pulled at it nervously.

“Do what?”

“No offense, Mac, but ya kinda lose… like  _ a lot _ .” I snorted. “But everytime I see ya out there, there’s always an air o’ confidence around ya, ya know? Ya always stand up straight and there’s never any doubt or fear in your eyes, or whatever, ya feel me?”

I let the question sit.  _ There’s… an air of confidence, around  _ me _ , and  _ I _ always stand up straight and there’s never any doubt or fear in _ my _ eyes?  _ The thought had never really crossed my mind that I was - or at least  _ appeared to be _ \- a stanchion of confidence to anyone else, especially given the emotionally tumultuous events of the last week, and the feelings of inadequacy and deep sadness that I felt day in and day out.

“...Yeah. What… what do you mean?”

Pit paused, staring into the distance. “Ya sorta,” he set his hands on the railing, the double golden halo floating around his left wrist still, “ya sorta got a way of just being yourself, even in the face of fear. Sometimes ya don’t, I dunno, but, whenever it’s in front of a crowd right before a match, ya just seem like, y’know, normal,  _ you _ .”

_ I guess… I guess I do. _

“You’re right, yeah. Uh, first off - thank you; I’d never really noticed that and I s’pose that’s uh, a big confidence booster for me to be honest funnily enough.”

Pit nodded. “No prob.”

“I guess I never really feel nervous to impress a crowd because, I dunno, I’d picked it up. When I was a boxing champion, ‘back in the day’,” I snorted, opening air quotation marks, “sometimes I gave ending speeches for ceremonies and stuff and I guess I got used to public speaking.

“Public speaking and performance are different in sorta ways, but I guess for about half of it, I’da already… I dunno, learned the confidence? Well, I guess that doesn’t count for the other half, if you can measure it in that way. I…”

I recalled the intense heat bearing down on my shoulders, the feeling of staring Ganondorf in the eye for fear that if I let my gaze drift somewhere else I would be a puddle of nerves, and the crowd shouting indistinct things despite being at full volume in my ears.

“Mac?” He looked at me, somewhat concerned.

“Oh, yeah; sorry ‘bout that, just… just recalling the match. Tryna give you a good, genuine and  _ real _ answer here, drawing upon personal experience.

I cleared my throat. “I guess… I guess I internalise the nerves a little bit. I don’t show the nerves because sometimes I, uh, I  _ block _ everything else out and focus hard on- on  _ one _ thing, and that’s often the opponent or whatever. Sometimes that comes back to bite me, because I overfocus on them and don’t check my spacing or whatever, but… that’s how I focus. It… helps to dam up the emotions and fear.

“Last, I guess, I always ‘fake it ‘till I make it’, y’know? That’s not to say I don’t prepare, or I don’t work hard in the gym… but this is, I s’pose, with respect to the stuff about posture and looking up and having that strut when you walk or whatever. I realised this a couple days ago, but I reckon confidence doesn’t  _ cause _ those things - but it’s doing those things that actually  _ causes confidence _ . Do you get what I’m tryna say?”

“Yeah.  _ Yeah _ ,” Pit repeated, enraptured, as though he’d just had a revelation, “I’m pickin’ up what you’re putting down, Mac.”

“Yeah. I mean, as a dude especially… we’ve gotta be confident, Pit. Even if Palu wasn’t confident or elegant or a good battler, or whatever, which I’m not saying she isn’t, she  _ is _ … she’s still a beautiful lady. C’mon, you can’t look me in the eye and tell me she wouldn’t be popular  _ regardless _ .”

Pit nodded vehemently. “Yeah, I get that.”

“For us guys, it’s like we’ve really gotta go for it; but that makes it all the more valuable and worth it when you attain it. I don’t think many guys get to that point, but I’ve seen you, Pit. I know you have it in you to get there.”

“Hmm. I… I get that.” With more conviction, he bobbed his head, the auburn strands spilling all over the place. “Thanks, Mac.”

“No problem, bro. Anytime.”

A bird cawed in the distance. The sun had fallen a considerable distance as we’d talked in the last couple - ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty minutes? The glow of the sun was now a series of faded concentric circles with unclear bounds, golden yellow around the center, then a dull, expansive red around the base of the sea.

Pretty lilac clouds floated across the horizon, and it was as though the world was reflected in that one line of ocean, the water in itself appearing that same purple hue. The photo was almost strangely _ cut _ horizontally, with the thin lines marking small waves and dashes in either the airy mist or the wet depths.

“Call me lazy, but…”

“Hmm?”

“Call me lazy, but I wouldn’t mind stayin’ here forever,” Pit finished. The smile sewn on his face was languid and lax, and he’d removed both his hands and put them behind his head, his starry gaze romantic in the old-fashioned sense.

“Yeah, this island is lovely. Good call by Palu, I reckon,”

“No-no, I mean like,  _ forever _ ,” he emphasized.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, not literally  _ forever _ ,” Pit laughed uneasily, scratching his head. “I mean… Mac, I feel like experiences like these make us closer together, y’know, and we don’t get many of them. I don’t feel like I’ve had that same experience of  _ brotherhood _ except in the past few years, and now I miss it a lot.”

“Yeah. So y’mean… just spending time with friends, or…?”

“Sorta. I mean… I feel like we got close back in  _ Tournament 4 _ … but it’s been three-plus years since and I wouldn’t mind staying here with ya and all that for, y’know, a month or two.”

“Mmh.”

“It’s like… I like hanging out with you, Mac, and the other guys too…”

His voice trailed off, as though there was a ‘but’ to his sentence.

“Yeah…?”

I turned to look at Pit, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a beige dress and green hair.

Palu.

She laughed loudly. “What are you two losers still doing up here?”

Pit’s head snapped around in the blink of an eye, and just knowing the guy, not even looking at his face, he’d turned red just hearing her voice.

_ Oh, man, he’s still smitten with her. _

“Ah, we were just enjoying the view, Palu,” I ran up and put an elbow on her shoulder.

_ I never used to be able to do that _ .

“Oh, come on, you two! The DJ’s starting on the beach - there are already people downstairs!” Now that I listened more closely, there were traces of disgustingly catchy EDM and the sounds of people cheering playing all ten storeys below.

_ Niiiiice. _ “Damn, I don’t want to miss out - let’s go!”

I sprinted across the wooden deck of the roof -  _ doof doof doof _ \- smacking Palu on the square of her back.

“Ouch, Jesus, Mac!”

“I barely touched you, c’mon!”

Palu gritted her teeth and ran by me, trying to land a couple of hits. I sidestepped them all. The crystal clear sound of her laugh resounded in the night air as she missed time and time again. She lunged forward, half-tripping, and I felt the outline of her palm dance on my back.

“Oof, goddamnit woman, you hit  _ hard  _ for a bitch!”

“You sexist pig!” Palu cried out, still laughing. I swivelled around once to get her back, that beautiful smile still plastered on her face, dashing away from me.

Suddenly, in my periphery, Pit’s face flashed. He lagged behind, arms swaying in line with his long but slow steps.

But this time, I had no idea what his face was saying.

  
• • • • •

  
  


I didn’t know anyone there. The gang had just dissipated into the crowd. Catchy, mindless pop blared out of the big black tripod speakers that stood their ground amongst the grains of sand. I couldn’t tell what they were singing. The mob chanted words that were both incoherent and out of time. The staggered speech melded them together and I barely was able to discern which language half of them were speaking. 

I swung my hips like no one’s business.

I couldn’t break dance, I couldn’t do the worm, and by god I couldn’t do a backflip,…

But I got the rhythm.

I could move my body with  _ passable _ coordination.

And boy, could I  _ fucking _ hip thrust.

One, two, left, right.  _ Buh-badabadabada-buh. _

After each move, a waggle of the arms or step of the feet, it was one of those.

One, two, bang, bang.  _ Buh-badum-dum-buh-duh. _

The beach was crowded, though luckily not crowded to the point that I was hip thrusting the guy next to me.

Or girl.

One, two, unh, unh.

I raised an eyebrow and smirked as a cute girl began going at it opposite me. There was a twinkle in her eyes that I only caught off the moon’s reflection. She looked about twenty and sexy.

One, two, yeah, ye-.

“-uh!” I’d almost rolled my ankle as someone grabbed me from behind, suddenly. They gripped on tightly as we went down, causing the mob of people to turn and stare.

“Oh, sorry, Mac!” Palu hurriedly picked me up, giving ‘he’s fine’s to the curious women surrounding us. Soon enough, they went back to doing their own thing, holding those plastic red cups with ambiguous fluid in them.

“No problem, Palu.” I brushed the sand off my bare chest. Times like these made me really glad that I worked out.

_ The girl. _ Looking around, the interested party, the wench, had since melted into the crowd.

_ Damnit. _

“Are you looking for someone?”

“Nah, there was this girl, opposite me, and uh, I think she wanted to dance.”

She curled her eyebrows and cocked her head into a curious, bemused frown-smile, as if to say both “wow”, “damn” and “oh” in the same sentence.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Palu grinned. “Why, am I not good enough for you?” As soon as I opened my mouth to reply that no, it had nothing to do with her, and that she was nowhere to be found and the other girl had came  _ before _ , she took me by the hand.

The world began to spin, and then time itself began to dissolve, blend, melt in on itself. She moved herself around me, opposite, like a reflection of myself, and we moved in near perfect sync for a couple beats in an entire song a few times, mirroring each others’ moves. Her tall but broad figure moved with the elegance of a gymnast bar the multiple times she tripped, stumbled, fell, and the look in her eyes when I failed, failed then finally caught her was pure twenty-four-carat gold.

Sometimes I had to remind myself that I had the utterly amazing privilege of being so close, so intimate with a literal  _ goddess _ , and that she herself was enjoying my company. She was acknowledging me, not as a mortal of any kind, or a fan, but a friend, a close friend, a best friend at that; and there were  _ no _ words for how mind-blowingly honoured I felt. It also didn’t describe how guilty it felt for me, the pang of feeling her enthusiasm and excitement to get with me which was suddenly ripped when we lost each other. I spun around once and the dark hair she ‘put on’ was like a drop of rain in a sea of blackness, dark hued bodies in the company of the night.

Alone, but comfortable by myself, I continued, progressing with the movement of the song, gently rocking my hips because it was all I could do. The bones and the muscles all were perfectly in motion with each other, at the right tempo, at the right pace; yet I couldn’t help but think that half my dance moves were idiotic-looking or clumsy and making one wrong move without thinking at least three beats ahead and aargh.

A few tipsy women came up to me, just like Girl 1, and just as pretty as Girl 1, but as soon as I turned around they’d disappeared into the sand or their boyfriend(s) - plural - had their arms around them, drunk as all hell, and they’d stumbled off sorta plastered. I kept on, not noting anything about the quality of the dance moves I was producing, or the numerous times my bare feet stepped on something not so soft like the remnants of a beer bottle.

Strange hollow loneliness began creeping up in the sea of people by the sea because of how unknown I felt. Some chick came up to me and stuck her fingers on my chest.  _ Wow. Maybe… _ I felt uplifted and acknowledged and excited all at once, until I stared at her face as red as a tomato and decided it was the last straw.

I danced, taking her along with me closer to the edge of the crowd, her face’s smile cracked into something ghastly like it was out of a horror movie. I didn’t feel human for a second.

I just ran.

There was the occasional feeling of smooth glass underfoot or the roughness of a stick or something but I just kept going, feeling my feet run then onto the more even pavement, onto the asphalt of the road, then the other side of the beach… 

A seagull cawed, lonely and wanting a partner. His wings beat, and then I was alone on the sand. Someone called out in the distance. There was no one around in this new area, but it was practically identical to the party-scene, about a thirty or so metre stretch of mass out to the shore of homogenous brown grain.

My heart dissolved into panic as a finger tapped my shoulder.

I flipped around, about to smack someone, as he held up his hands.

“Whoa, Mac! Hol’ up, I thought you hea-”

“-Pit? What the fu-?”

“Ya gotta see this, dude,” he said. His expression suddenly morphed into the brightest, most wondrous of smiles, much in contrast to the dead face I got off him right before the party.

“Wha-?” He yanked me forwards, practically dragging me. “Where the hell are you taking me, bro?”

“Ya better see it for yourself. It’s  _ good _ , dude,” he laughed. “C’mon, this way.”

We walked up to a pavilion by the quiet part of the beach, up onto the stairs that led to the bike path. Someone giggled, and I immediately recognised that voice as Palu’s. Falc chuckled along with her.

Pit turned the corner, and I turned to see Falcon pouring water into a row of shot glasses. No, not water - vodka.

_ Ah, so  _ this _ is what I was missing out on. _

Palu was right next to him. “Chug, chug, chug, chug, chug, chug!” R.O.B. matched her chants with rhythmic pats on Sonic’s shoulders.

“I can still do more, I can still take more,” he slurred.

“No one’s stoppin’ ya, kid.”

Sonic upended the glass’ clear contents into the back of his throat, coughing and grabbing his throat. Palu cheered, and Falc shook him wildly by the shoulders, yelling incoherently. Pit ran around the back, wanting some action too.

That wasn’t a good move. He turned and abruptly spat half the fluid into Palu’s face.

“Eugh! What the fu-” She whipped her hair up, palming Sonic’s drunken face. Pit laughed until Palu shook her head in disgust, staring daggers into his eyes.

His face went red and his smile turned nervous.

Sonic’s eyes rolled around without control.

“Damnit, guys,” I laughed, “I leave you for a second and ya go and do this - what the hell!?” Palu’s hair flipped up and over, and her eyes immediately lit up.

“Oh… I know you!” Sonic dazedly smiled in my general direction. “You’re  _ Little Mac _ ! The one they always talk about!”

Falc guffawed, seemingly having lost it too.

“How are you doing, Sonic?” I walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“ _ Little Mac _ … hehehe, why do they call you that…?”

“Huh? I got that nickname when I was 4’8”!”

“Ahhh!! I get it,” he slurred, “thaatt’s why they call you  _ Little Mac _ , you’ve got a little weiner, don’t you?”

I had no words. 

“Hehehe, oh,  _ Little _ Mac, I’m just joking. Or am I?” I looked down.

My pants were around my ankles.

He dissolved in a puddle of giggles without anything else, pointing at the lack of an obvious bulge. Falcon losing it right with him. I pulled them up; I mean, the boxers were still on, and I wasn’t really that bothered.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” Pit rolled on the floor, clutching his sides, laughing until tears spilled out of his eyes. “OHHHH, LOOK, HE’S GOT A SMALL WEINER!” 

Palu grimaced and turned away, much unlike how she was cheering him on just then. 

“Sonic, shut up-” Even then, I had a smile creep up my face at how wild this animal was.

“TINY COCK!!!” The last word was screamed, and he giggled, his body pulsing jerkily.

“SONI-”

Footsteps on the stairs echoed out, and I found Jane right there, slack-jawed at the display of a late-thirties adult male wearing a red helmet, the non-obese distant cousin of Cupid and a nine-year-old robot unable to visibly laugh, guffawing at the antics of a blue-spined hedgehog under the influence of strong alcohol.

“Sonic, are you-”

He burped his right lung out in her face.

“Sonicohmygoodnessyou’redrunkweneedtogetyouupstairs-”

“JANE…” He lost it again, but this time his eyes closed, and he slumped, passed out on Jane’s leg.

“OhmygoodnesshespassedoutIthinkweneedan-”

“Jane, ya gotta cah’m dow-”

“Don’ttellmewhattodoDouglassJayFalcon-”

“Can’t tell me ‘twasn’t funny, though,” he smirked, getting up.

“Ohyoupieceofcrapbringhimupstairs - immediately!”

“E’s Sonic. Ye and I both know ‘e’ll be arright tomorrow,” he replied.

Jane stared at him, hard.

“Goodness, Falc…” She blinked, as if to snap herself out of something. “Oh - alright, well, you made this mess - you’re gonna fix it.”

Falc smirked and winked at me, as if to say  _ she’s got a soft spot for me _ .

“Pit, R.O.B., you’re carrying him upstairs. Falc, you’re taking care of him tonight. I don’t want the poor wait staff to have to deal with mammal vomit in the carpets. Get your butts to the room ASAP; enough of this nonsense. Chop, chop!”

“Aye, aye, cap’n,” Falc saluted. “C’mon, Wings, let’s go.”

“Do ya always have to call me that?” All Pit got was a chuckle in response as he offloaded the deadweight of our sleeping friend onto R.O.B., who whirred a complaint. The five of them faded into the lift, seemingly having forgotten about me.

As soon as they left, I wondered to myself.

_ Where is Palu? _

I turned around, facing the beach again. A solitary strong seated figure, with the elegant curves of a goddess, sat alone on the brink of the waves and the foam, hands planted backwards in the sand. The same beige dress, the same shadow cast behind her by the confronting, haunting moonlight; the same woman that I felt a little pang for every time, every time she spoke whether it was to me or not.

Suddenly, the contact on the ground had morphed from the stone cut of the pavement to the rough grains of sand. Without my knowing it, my feet had already begun moving, dancing as elegantly as she did on the ground, so  _ damn _ eager to go and meet her.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Clear as crystal.

The crowd of the beach, to the seven of us, then now… 

Now…

Now, it was just her and I.


	15. Reset to Neutral (Part Three)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I've been working real hard to deliver this one to you - aside from 7 and 8 this has got to be one of my favourite chapters so far. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing this, and if you do, I'd really appreciate a comment.

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 15: Reset to Neutral (Part 3)**

  
  


_ [ - Little Mac - ] _

**_( - Undella Town (Spring, Autumn, Winter) | Pokémon Black and White - )_ **

  
  


_ Wednesday 12th August 2076, 01:12 _

The night sky winked at me conspiratorially, with its little stars - members of its own coalition - waving in greeting. I would’ve waved back but I decided not to for fear of, I dunno, maybe not looking dumb. Black grains of sand lay underneath me, solitary as I felt them each individually; yet, unified - they were all there together.

Just like me and her right now. She was lying right beside me, looking up at the stars above, with me, twirling her hair between forefinger and thumb like she always did.

“Today was a good day, Palu."

“Yeah, Mac.”

“It was a really good day, Palu. Thank you - I mean,  _ really _ ; it was one of the best days in my life… well, so far. I appreciate it a lot.”

The remaining sweet in my heart caramelised when she laughed. “I’d love to do this again, for you, in an instant, Mac.”

I thought of all that we’d done in one day.

It felt like a year.

The purely fresh smell of the clear-blue shallow sea at eight in the morning; listening to the wash of the waves, Falc yelling out every time we hit a big one; lunch with the guys, the memory of Doc Louis revived in my head; talking to Jane and understanding who she was for the first time ever, not even in a while,  _ ever _ ; beating - no, dominating those thirty-year-olds at beach volleyball even when they tried to shove Pit; pasta dinner on the balcony, peering out at everything that was happening at the resort, including and especially the fire-dancers with their gasoline breath and all; talking to Pit on the roof quietly, just the two of us, if only for a few moments; the lonely but kinda unique experience of the beach party at midnight; Sonic’s comments on my genitals as he coughed up all the coins in the world he’d saved up… and now,  _ now _ .

Something strange hit me, a powerful sensation that was so profound yet so depressing at the same time.

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

The passing of time and how long it was… yet how short it could be. A mere speedbump in a thirty-mile road. It then abruptly changed from time to space… and it was the bang of a gong on the door of my soul all of a sudden.

“You ever wonder where the sky begins?” It’d come out of nowhere, but as soon as I said it… it felt right.

"What do you mean, Mac?"

I sighed. "I mean… you look at eye level and see through air, to a nearby wall, person, or whatever. Air is sorta see-through, isn't it. Where does the sky begin, to fill colour in and of itself?"

"Wow, uh… where did that come from?” She laughed nervously. “I mean, Sonic was literally commenting on your, uh, thing, a few minutes ago.”

I chuckled, but had nothing to say.

“Besides,” she continued, “I can't answer that question."

I laughed. "Didn't expect you to.”

“...Okay?”

“It was sort of rhetorical, anyway." I became more aware of the sensation of the coarse grains of sand lining the skin of my bare back right there and then.

"Well, what do you mean by that?"

“The sky is like a barrier. It's between us and the outside world; my point I guess, is just that it seems… it seems like there is no limit to this big, infinite universe, is there?

“We can stare up at the big, fat moon for ages and the stars as though they’re close by… But every single one of those things is farther away from us that there’s no chance whatsoever in a lifetime we’ll get to go up there - whichever way is up - and touch one of them. It’s not that I want to… but it’s for the sake of it, in and of itself.”

The light breeze drifted and caressed my face, yet not too chilly or close for comfort.

“I guess… I guess I wanted to point out really how small we are in this universe. Today was one whale of a time… but it’s just one day, isn’t it, in our lives. Mine’s gonna be about eighty, maybe even ninety, years long; and only  _ god _ knows how long yours will be. It feels really unstable," sudden tumult rocked my world, “that this moment feels like  _ nothing _ .”

Air cried the call of crickets and a gust blew through the ocean. A lap of the waves, patient dogs, washed up against my toes. Her silence accompanied my own. The sound of the wash abruptly sunk deep into my heart like the sharpest of knives. Something, something in that otherwise peaceful sound caused the same mighty existential dread to rise up once more, and it seeped between my ribs like dark blood, feeling paralysing and fatal.

"We  _ are _ quite small, aren't we?" The warm, pointy chuckle in her voice… I was getting heartbroken over and over again. It was as though she was speaking to confirm it more than anything.

"We’re tiny compared to those spatial structures that surround us, Mac. And… it’s hard to live with knowing that, even and especially for me. I'm a goddess back where I'm from… but here, I'm nothing. At least, I feel like nothing. Also, I only discovered a few years back that my own is not the only universe there is - there’s an entire multiverse, now.

“So… the feeling of being swallowed whole by this gargantuan universe that seems to care little for us like that… I understand, Mac. I’m with you.”

“You do get it, Palu,” I gulped.

“But why… why is that important?” she continued. “If it's as indifferent as our universe is, why bother with it when it itself doesn't really care for us? I care about my people, my friends, my family, Mac - to me, I don’t think, or care so much about the universe not caring. I focus on the people I care about. The same people who care for me." Something stirred somewhere, somewhere in my body.

The silence.

I watched her face.

The silence, it felt…

Her face turned into itself, and even her calm…

It felt…

Even her calm omniscience seemed to have…

It felt  _ indifferent _ .

She looked uncomfortable.

She looked scared.

"It's hard to forget to stop thinking about it, especially on a dark, clear night where the sky is so truthful and bare like this…” I heard her swallow tensely. Her normally confident, fluid voice with no spare word used without meaning, began to break.

“It’s beautiful," Palu whispered.

I nodded.

Another gust ruffled my hair and I could sense each individual fiber blowing in the wind more out of necessity than anything else. Mindful of everything.

“I'm with you, Mac… that feeling of loneliness, staring into that indifferent pit of darkness… it- it's less severe, less strong, and when I'm with you I feel secure, Mac."

It suddenly felt like I was choking.

"I really do feel like I have a rock, a guy who’s by my side and would shield me from it all… and it's just as though there's nothing to be worried about at all.

"Mac… you're really someone special. I've met dozens of mortals before you, but you’re not just that. There's no one who makes me…" Palutena paused, her voice trembling. "You- you really…”

“Mac, you mean the world to me."

Her voice made me feel so warm, yet so sad that I would never really be able to get my hands and fingers around it and sink deep into it like steak.

“Mac?”

I forced myself to her. Her eyes were closed peacefully, arms folded over her stomach. "Yeah?"

“I’m really glad about this. Just you and me on the beach, together.”

“I’m just grateful that I have you with me, Palu.”

My brain broke and it felt like there was metaphysical fluid trickling into my skull because I genuinely lost the ability to think. The only thing I had was the reflex of speech and the ability to describe what I was feeling.

“Mac, you made this all worth it.” Her voice, oh her  _ god damn voice _ , it made the cloud in my head so much heavier and wider and bigger.

“You did too.”

I tried to not let the fact that my heart had jumped up into my throat seem too obvious. It was almost as though I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to say something so bad, but the gas thickened, diffused and blocked it from coming out from my head down to my throat and into my mouth. I didn’t have the words.

I was panicking.

She opened her eyes again. "I'm sleepy. Do you mind carrying me upstairs?"

Her words set me right back to sleep, forgetting what it was I would’ve said.

"No, pretty lady," I replied, and the warmth evolved into a hearth stoked in my throat.

She giggled girlishly, and offered me a hand. I grabbed hold of it, pulling her up slowly, and all I could see in my mind’s eye was that same thing on that pristine Friday, the image, the  _ reality _ of her face and her dress and her eyes when I confessed her my weaknesses and vulnerabilities.

Turning so my back faced her front, I rested my hands as footholds so she could climb up.

"Ooh, we’ve got a chunky one here, do we?"

_ Why the hell did I say that? _

Palutena laughed, slapping me hard on the back, almost taking us both down. "Move, fatass.”

"Hey, I'm not saying it's a bad thing." Although the feeling of her weight on me was hard to hold - but at the same time, it was… satisfying, and proximate, and tender, and lovely.

"Oh, just walk."

"Alright, m'lady," I jibed.

The waves washed themselves over the beach again, as if on cue, greeting us as we - or I - walked. The feeling of her skin on me made me feel delicate; I didn't want to move one wrong way, I didn't want to fall or trip - I was scared of losing the moment with her tender skin against me.

Palu's arms rested loosely around my neck. I wished that I could touch her hands again, but hoisting up her thighs wasn't worse in the slightest; just having her here with me, close to me, made the time…

It was golden.

Right then and there, a long strand or stroke of hair dropped down pendulously from her head, and then after, the sensation of her face on my neck. She rubbed it affectionately into the nape of my neck, and I shivered so suddenly I almost dropped her. I grabbed her thighs tighter, to feel more secure in that split second.

Her face was so close to mine I couldn't help but smell the gentle smell of her perfume, as I padded barefoot on the coarse yet gentle grains of the ground, their tones intermingling with my toes like fluid underneath. Her scent was sweet and sensual with an instant, an instantaneous moment that was shocking and deep, I had no real words to describe it adequately other than magical or even holy.

She was so bloody gorgeous it hurt my heart to think it.

The lift bell sounded; the surroundings were beautiful and all in the peace of the night sky, trees overhanging it with no detail but a silhouette, but I'd been so concentrated on the touch of a beautiful goddess I had no idea where I was really.

Her head rested even more heavily on my back, and I had no words for how content I felt, yet I wanted more; I wanted to have this moment forever, for an indefinitely long time so that there could be no instant where it was or would be over.

I listened to every single beat of the music in that elevator, each tone having its own weight,  _ bum _ ,  _ bum _ , so I could feel her on me,  _ bum _ , for just another moment.

Getting out, the feeling of the soft carpet was nothing on the girl on my back. I crept silently, for the last thing I wanted was for Pit or Sonic to emerge half-dead from their suite. It felt rebellious and it was like I was even younger than I already was.

Two's company, three's a crowd.

I was reluctant to have my hand leave the size, tenderness and proximity of her right leg for that moment to grab the key card, but I was exhausted and so was she.

She gave out cute little snores as evidence.

The door closed behind me, and there was nothing but darkness between the two of us. Palu squeezed my shoulder lightly.

"What is it, Palu?"

"Mac…"

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind- oh, never mind.” Embarrassment laced her tones.

“No, no, what is it? No judgment.

“Do you mind… giving me a massage?"

"I'd be more than happy to," I replied softly. I bent down, letting her sit down on the side of the bed.

"Oh, my knight in shining armor," she laughed sleepily. I snorted lightly.

"Lie on your tum."

"Alright," she giggled.

My fingers reached deep into the curves of her shoulders and the flesh in them.

In. Out.

Her soft green hair tickled my fingers gently but it was a welcome sensation.

Out. In.

The muscles around my thumb were sore…

In. Out.

...But the satisfaction I felt with her and her shoulders was everything compared to that. 

Out. In.

She muttered a few words as her face dug into the pillow. I sat down next to her on the bed, caressing the curves of her neck.

"This… is nice." The eyelids of hers closed so gradually it was hard to discern where they began in the darkness of the little room. I wondered whether it would be nicer to see the emerald glow of her irises, or to feel the aura of peace there was, the way she breathed in and out as she slept.

Her back rose and fell rhythmically with the sound of her inhales and exhales, one after the other in perfect synchronisation. Something about listening to my own breathing was peaceful, but hearing that mirrored in her breathing made it all the more calming and even and one with itself; I loved it, even as the breaths got slower and softer.

My hands grew slower and slower, matching her beats, and I stopped, thumb and palm still wrapped into the perfectly matched nook of her neck and shoulders, in harmony together.

One last stroke, feeling the ripple of flesh from her body.

I delicately sat up, raising a leg, then a palm and an arm, until I was fully off the bed.

Palu lay sleeping on the only bed.

I wanted to feel her touch like I just did, just then; but it was as though the moment was over. I left it against my own wishes.

Then, I realised something.

She was beautiful… but more than that, she was so damn close, intimate and sexy, to me. It wasn’t like one of the girls I danced with, who were hot beyond imagination and gorgeous, but it was like they were nothing to me. It wasn't… it wasn't  _ just _ … it wasn’t only the fact that she was cute and beautiful and tall and graceful and elegant; it was how close she was to me.

How we talked.

How she acted around me.

It was who she was.

_ I’m in love. _

Oh,  _ SHIT _ .

_ You’re in love. _

Oh, god.

My ears began to ring after hearing that.

Sitting in the armchair with the comfy, coarse, pulled polyester, I had no reason to not buckle back inwards on it. My back pressed against it, finding its own grip, and all of the muscles in my body that were tense finally lost that tension.

_ I am in love. _

Then, I realised that I didn’t feel guilty or awful about it.

It felt regular.

Normal.

_ Right. _

Without another thought, I sauntered to the bathroom and washed my face, hoping but also hoping against hope that this was just something that I thought of randomly that carried no weight.

I couldn’t face myself in the mirror.

I offed the light and wiped my face.

I chose to face the night instead.

The curtains, the curtains were drawn back to their sides like loyal guards of the princess, the queen, the  _ GODDESS _ of Night.

Night stared me right back in the eye, yet with the echo of crickets’ chirps. The stars twinkled again, and the roadside lights were bright, taking away some of the coldness… but staring out on it, I knew that's what I had been missing this whole time - a girl who understood me, a girl I could get intimate with - I'd heard things from various people, disjointed fragments that meant little on their own, about how having a woman doesn't really solve anything, not even just…  _ sexually _ \- that word sunk in my chest deep - and maybe that's the case, yet the foreboding and dreadfully beautiful night sky like a demon goddess was strangling me, hands around my throat for all my worth; the emptiness of being alone, both in not having someone right now to talk to, but in the long term, the thought of not having someone to understand waking up tomorrow.

I  _ needed _ to not feel so alone, and even if it didn't work, it was so, so worth a try because I had no idea what it was like in the first place.

I’m pretty sure…

That is what I want.

_ She's so perfect. _

_ I know she wants me too. _

Damn, do I?

I wanted to wake her up and tell her these things I had found, but it wasn't the right time; no, certainly not.

That stagnant staleness ate at my heart like a nervous angst.

It burned.

It ate.

It consumed.

Knowing that nothing more could be done that night except to face Night herself, that cold demonic goddess so beautiful she rivaled her, yet she had no cares for me whatsoever and there was no consorting her, no long talks by the beach, no on-the-line flirting because she didn't fully exist; she  _ wasn't _ fully.

I tore my eyes away from the curtains and drew them shut. 

Night could wait.

I wanted sleep and to throw away my tumultuous heart, as impossible as it was to take it out back and bin it like any visceral thing.

Night's presence faded. An air conditioning vent. Television. Bed, bathroom, bedside table.

Items. Objects.

The curtains, those royal guards, protected me from the outside reality I couldn’t bear to face.

Then, there was more normalcy, and I felt like I was fading.

I felt like I was fading, fading into the armchair a bit more relaxedly, feeling the depth and gravity of tiredness, and of exhaustion, and of sleep, begin to seep into my veins and take over my body.

Sudden shifts in nothingness jolted my heart in my chest up and down, like trying to sleep in a car or a boat or a ship, bobbing up and down or stopping at every red light or zebra crossing, but it was working; there were pulses where the brain forgot what was last said, spoken and thought, and the events of that day became more and more surreal as I tried to remember my previous thoughts I had just forgotten.

Somewhere, somehow, something new began, sprouted, grew in my mind that I couldn’t really quite place my finger on.

So, I guess, I’d like to think that I dreamed of Palu that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys, I really do try and I just don't know whether you like this as much as I do. It's been like 15 chapters and four months and not a single review from anyone who isn't my friend Kris; really, I've worked my ass off for this, thinking about this story at night before I sleep and throughout the day, writing whenever I got the chance.
> 
> I'm seriously wondering what I'm doing wrong because legitimately I pride my work on both quality and quantity and the fact that no-one has commented at all is making me wonder whether I'm being fucking delusional. If you've been reading since July, please do let me know. I really don't know what the fuck is going on at this point.
> 
> I don't mean to leave a sour taste in your mouth after this wonderful chapter, but at least give me a sign, c'mon.
> 
> Much love  
> D4


	16. The Scientist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for being pissy the other chapter. Here's No. 16 - a new element is introduced to the story ;) Just sit back and enjoy it.

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 16: The Scientist**

  
  


**_( - Viridian City | Pokémon Heartgold and Soulsilver - )_ **

_[ - R.O.B. - ]_

_ Thursday 13th August 2076, 10:07 _

“How’s ‘at feel, bud?” Master asked, squatting down. I felt more cleaner.

Master had wiped the back of my spine down. He used the yellow cloth. A squeaky sound came out.

I whirred. I was more happier.

“Good t’ hear, Robby,” Master said. He grinned toothily as he normally did.

More squeaking, this time from above. Master polished the top of my head. He was being careful with the light. The light broke during one fight. Against the big brown man with the armor. The light helped me know when I could use the laser.

Master worked much harder to fix it. Master found a new lightbulb to put on and rewired it. I was sleeping. But when I saw it. I felt more complete.

Master reached into the bucket. He squeezed a sponge. My spine tickled when the sponge scrubbed. It felt nice and good and clean. Master ran it up and down the back. Like he often did in this room.

The room was gray and dark. Master called it “the garage”. Master’s car was in there. And my plug to turn off and charge. It was gray and dark. But it felt like home. I was more comfortable here. I was happy here.

Just like I was happy. When I was with Master. And Jane. And Mac and Pit. Master always called Pit “Wings”. I think so because Pit has wings. Pit took care of me too. So did Mac and Jane. Just like Master did.

I liked Mac and Pit and Jane.

“I been thinkin’, Robby; what if we gave ya a new outfit?”

I tilted my head.

“For yer next match, ‘ah mean.”

I whirred. I was confused. What was Master talking about?

Master came around from the back. He held the sponge.

“Don’t gimme ‘at look,” he laughed. “Gimme one sec! I’ll show ya.”

Master ran to the desk. He wiped his hands on his pants. Master changed his clothes often. Today it was the blue suit. Master always said that “I been wearin’ ‘ese since my mechanic days.”

But Master never took off the helmet. Whenever we were together. He always wore his helmet. His helmet was yellow and red. It had a pair of wings on the side of it.

Master was holding a paper. He ran back.

“Arright, how’s this look to ya, Robby boy?”

Master held up the paper sheet. It was a mirror.

I looked the same. But my hands were red.

No. It was not a mirror - it was a sketch.

The base of my body was red. My arms also were red. There were no other differences except that. It was me but with different colours.

It looked more cooler than now. I looked nice now. The silver paint was more shinier than the red. But now that I looked at the red, the silver felt more old. And if Master thought it would look cool. I think it would look cool too.

I nodded. I whirred.

“Great! Let’s get tah work!” Master sounded happy too. He smiled at me last. Then he ran to the back of the room. It sounded like he was trying to find something.

_Scrap. Crumk._

Master felt through a pile of things. Metal in the back of the room - that is what I think. He felt around for a while, and he hummed. It sounded like Master was really happy. That is when he said he was “tickled pink”. I never went pink when I felt tickled. At least I do not think I did. I did not really understand it.

But if Master was happy, maybe I understood. In a different way.

“How’s this look tuh yah, Robby boy?”

I twisted my head around.

“Hav’ a good look a’ ‘ese, here.” Master carried metal plates. Two of them were red and solid. They had three sharp corners. And one sloping edge. It was the same as the plate on my shoulder. “How ‘bout we start here, an’ replace somethin’ diff’rent er’ry day?”

I nodded, happy. “By the en’ of the week… Robby, boy; ya’re gonna be the hottest robot on the street!” Master laughed very happily.

It was like Master was sort of drinking air.

  
• • • • •

_[ - Little Mac - ]_

  
  


I’d undergone a paradigm shift.

It now felt more _surreal_ , the events of two nights ago.

_Does that make me pathetic or something? I mean, it was nothing._

But it _was_ something. I’d fallen for her.

I’d actually fallen for her.

Reflecting back on everything that had happened, I was really unsure of whether I actually _existed_ where I did.

I didn’t even know there was more than one dimension just three years ago. I didn’t even think it was normal for racers to wear around flashy yellow helmets and teenagers with literal wings sprouting out of their shoulder blades or beings literally existing in two dimensions to exist and _battle_? Against one another?

And… physics, in this world, was adjustable in the arena; to an extent that would’ve been impossible, even mind-blowing in the normal world. People bouncing off walls at speeds of aircraft takeoffs without irreversible physical repercussions or internal organ damage afterwards?

Crazy. Absolutely crazy.

There was no way this was an actual thing.

A homeless man donning a cotton hoodie smiled at me from the pavement, newspaper wrapped underneath him. “Got a dolla’?”

I stopped and checked my pockets. “Sorry man, not on me right now.”

“Thanks fo’ checking anyways, mate.”

“Have a good day, man.”

A brief warmth cut into my chest, and then continued as I remembered the honour it was to be here; it really felt like such an _immeasurable_ honour… to come here, the only representative from the seven billion people that lived on my Earth. Of everyone, I was the most deserving; not that any of them knew that, but regardless… the magnitude of it was impossible to comprehend.

My foot slipped. I yelled and grabbed a pillar for support.

 _Ouch, damnit, that hurts._ I must’ve missed a step, or something.

People shot me awkward, questioning stares, and I smiled sheepishly, walking on. The only person who didn’t turn was the tall woman who walked in front of me. The hair reminded me of the costume Palu donned whenever we were out. 

Palu was a goddess. The fact that I was the closest friend to a _literal_ goddess… I couldn’t begin to eat away at that fact without feeling as though I was legitimately in a coma. 

_Tournament 4_ , I sorta just took it in, a jaded teenager with little perspective of it all, just wanting to meet new people; but here, I was _recognizing_ that this was my life. I had to keep repeating it, or I would forget this even was a _thing_ . _This is real, this is real, this is real._

A very attractive brunette in her twenties came by, sandals clopping on the streetside. She was, without a doubt, a nine.

I hoped I didn’t stare.

But really, that didn’t help at all; no, despite the fact that seeing any remotely attractive chick made me feel strangely happy, right now, I was losing grip on my reality, that I wasn’t back where I was before. No, it didn’t help that most people I saw, milling about, as I walked along the sea, were human too, just like back home.

I looked behind me - she was gone from sight.

Waves still moved the same way they did, with their peaceful temporary peaks and troughs, heading towards the shore and sweeping back in. It had the same type of scintillating beauty as back home, but it was of greater depth and more magnificent.

_This can’t be real._

No, this _was_ real, or the last five years had to be a lie.

Gratitude had never been a strong point of mine. I’d often wished for things that I could never have, to change the circumstances of these external factors that I could never hope to possibly change - but I didn’t even think this was related to gratitude. It wasn’t a gratitude thing, no, it was more denial than anything.

I couldn’t help but smile a bit at the predicament I was in.

A wealthy man’s predicament.

A desirable predicament, even.

And again, through that smile, I began to feel this strong, strong ray of excitement and hope for the future. I imagined it in my heart to be this orange-yellow that inspired and uplifted, its faint outlines visceral and true; the ray with it carried this intense euphoria that made me feel nothing but happiness, yet a tinge of dissatisfaction in knowing that I couldn’t entirely enjoy the future in the present. Still, my heart jumped in the same way that Palu made it jump; or the same way it jumped whenever a notification pinged on the chat, an invitation to dinner or to anywhere else, really; just the good times ahead took me to another level. My soul was elevated and it was like I was flying, and I was above the clouds, staring into the beaming, shining light that brought me there.

As soon as I imagined, pictured and visualised it, I saw it.

The concrete pavement opposite; a red sedan passing by, lights on low; a middle-aged family with their daughter and son; the glass panel and the aluminum bannister railing that ran along it to prevent two-year-olds from falling ten metres down to the beach; the golden sand, and then above it, with the palm trees, was that same elating light.

My goofy grin turned into a beam, and I was smiling at myself silly looking at the view. I looked opposite at the rusty bench, and had a seat. The surface was hard against the bone of my ass, and I definitely wouldn’t have been sitting there if the sun wasn’t this stunning today. And then there was the oppressive heat - despite how unpleasant it was, the gentle wind balanced it out - and today, I donned the singlet instead of the hoodie. Thank god for that, or I’d be out here _moistening_ in the heat.

I checked my watch. _18:32._ _Jane won’t be done with Rupert till later._

The sun was so damn hot it reminded me of that story, that story of the angel that jumped up and flew far far into the horizon. I don’t remember who told me it, halfway into the sun but melted. _How did he get anywhere close…?_

I faltered for a second.

 _Pit_.

The second I heard his name in my ears a sinking feeling hit my stomach.

I knew why.

I’d been conscious that Pit was pretty into Palu, at least since _Tournament 4_ , but I woulda thought he’d have gotten over it or maybe it was his phase - in Earth terms, she was more-or-less his boss. It wasn’t that it was weird or unnatural - god knows that Palu is gorgeous - but it was that it was a really awkward dynamic. If he’d asked or anything, he’d still be living with her under the same roof still.

Going out with him these last couple weeks… it was evident that nothing had changed.

_Is it wrong…? It’s not as though I’ve made a move completely oblivious to Pit’s situation - in fact, by realising this today, I’ve become even more guilty. I don’t want him to hurt seeing me with the girl he’s into. I really, really don’t; and I don’t want him to feel as though he’s second place to me if I do succeed._

_But at the same time, before, I was just messing around, flirting, and maybe I was hoping for something - god, I don’t even know now given last night’s revelation - but now I know she’s the girl I’m aiming for. So now… well… now, my feelings are serious too, they’re real. Now, I’ve also acknowledged that Pit’s are also real._

_So really…_

_Nothing’s changed._

I wished Jane would hurry up, so that we could talk, or train, anything to distract me from this. I was sick and tired of decision making and thinking, between Tuesday night to yesterday’s lonely, placid, excited thinking about Palu, to today’s whatever-the-hell-this-was revelation.

More people passed by, a hot sea of faces. The heat became more intense to the point of oppressiveness. I felt the sun’s burn slowly cooking the side of my face; if I placed the back of my palm on my cheek it would certainly heat up. Sweat trickled down my back.

Gone was the cool, gentle wind, instead, it was warm, razor thin and cut across my eyes sharply. I flinched. _Where is she?_

_God damn it, Jane, where are you when I need you?!_

Even in the hot sun, I lay back on the bench and closed my eyes. The colour of the shield behind my eyelids was still a warm yellow.

Some part of my head lolled and dropped, and I listened to the chatter of a group of women - some frantic nonsense about one of them losing their phone. They left, a man talked to his kid, right then.

“How’d you like that, kiddo?”

“Thanks a bunch, dad.”

“No problem, kiddo. Only on your birthday, though!”

“Aww, dad…”

“Oh, be quiet and enjoy it!” His son laughed.

_Be quiet… and enjoy it…?_

Seconds melted into each other. I slumped even further, and had only the vaguest of understandings as to what I was doing, or had done, and liquid parted my lips. Maybe it was drool.

The next time my eyes opened, my back lethargically pressed into the back of the bench, a familiar face shook in front of my eyes.

...Until I realised _I_ was the one getting shook.

“MacI’vebeenlookingalloverforyouwherehaveyoubeen?”

My vision was still groggy, but the surroundings were notably darker.

“...Huh?”

“RupertandIhavebeensearchingforyo-”

“What!?”

I checked my watch. _19:32??_

Holy crap, they’d finished over half an hour ago.

“Oh, lord, I’m-”

“-entyminutes,” Jane panted, “Mac, gosh - darnit!”

“Sorry, Jane - but I was like right here.” _What? How could they not have_

“Aw, well, we went left out the back, and you _always_ have your phone on silent. What are you doing here, anyways?”

“Yeah, well… I took a seat and sorta waited out here, and ended up falling asleep somehow. Didn’t want to interrupt ya.”

“Oh.” Jane’s face turned shocked. “Oh, darn, Mac, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know-”

“Ah, it’s fine, homegirl,” I grinned, putting my elbow on her shoulder.

“-H-hey, Mac!”

I turned around. Rupert emerged from the back.

“Hey, man! How was it?”

“G-good enough, man.” He jerked a thumb at Jane. “She worked me to the b-bone, heh.”

“Ah, she always does that - you should pro’lly get used to that.”

Jane grinned, a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead. “Oh, stop it, Mac! Anyways, that reminds me about something - I was just talking to Rupert about the KO punch bar.”

“Okay, go on.” I frowned.

“Although we didn’t get the chance to talk earlier about it, I figured it didn’t seem normal that you got knocked out as a side-effect of using it; I mean, there was no disclaimer under ‘side effects’ - the most severe side effect was a migraine. I called the company that custom-made these for you, an-”

“Wait, you got those for me specifically?”

“Oh, of course I would!”

I grinned pretty wildly. A pang of love resonated in my chest.

“Th-thanks, Jane - damn, you really went out of your way to do that.” She really, really was dedicated - not just as a trainer, but as a friend, too. “But anyways - continue.”

“No problem!” She flashed me a smile. “Well, here’s the thing. This is the official company that produces all Smash-related training products for sale to Smashers, I think - it’s called Antrell Corp. I called the company up about it - they were pretty good about it.”

“What did they suggest?”

“They asked to recall the entire box of bars for safety and testing.”

“Mmh. Well, go and send them in!”

She nodded. “Well, it’s awfully dangerous of them to not check their products that carefully - it could’ve resulted in some bad stuff happening, Mac.”

“You’re not wrong - but at least they didn’t deny it outright for fear of legal action or whatever.”

“Hmm. Okay, are you coming in to train? That’s why you’re here, after all.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll head in first to set up,” she said, winking.

“Alright, homegirl. Seeya.”

Jane shuffled along the street, until she disappeared into the now-dark building.

**_( - Final Destination | Super Smash Bros Brawl - )_ **

“M-Mac?”

“Rupert?”

“I-I n-need to tell, tell you s-something.”

“Yeah, bro? What is it?”

“Th-the… Oh, god, I c-can’t say, say it.” He stared over the silver railing, hands covering his face as he sat.

“I’m not gonna judge, man, please, don’t worry about it.” I placed a hand on his shoulder.

He didn’t respond, merely rocking back and forth.

This was gonna take a while.

I sat back down next to him.

A woman passed by, gesturing to me. ‘He’s fine’, I mouthed. The kind lady kept walking down the street, and eventually faded into the distance.

The gentle rocking continued, generating soft creaks from the bench.

“M-Mac… please promise- promise me you’ll never say an-n-nything to an-n-nyone about, about this.”

“I won’t say anything.”

“M-Mac…” he dragged his hands down his face.

The face that stared at me was the most haunting look I’d ever seen - his eyes were wide so I saw the full radial edges of his black irises, mouth cast in this frown that was a smile, and his gaze set off in the distance - not at me, but past me, _through_ me.

“I’m scared.”

I had no words. I felt the same, at whatever he was about to say.

“What if it was intentional?”

_Wait, what?_

“What do you mean?”

“W-what if, if they w-wanted to k-knock you o-out?”

_Huh?_

“Rupert, what are you saying?!” I barely raised my voice, but the kid was out of there like a light, dashing off onto the street.

I looked across the road, about to get to my feet, before I heard the distinctive sound of an impatient Jane. “Hey, Mac!”

“Yeah?”

“C’mon, sleepyhead!”

“Okay, Jane…”

I didn’t know what to think.

  
• • • • •

_[ - The omnipresence of God - ]_

  
  


The man shivered in his white coat. It wasn’t that it was cold, no. The room was twenty-three degrees Celsius; a fine temperature - one could even consider it to be warm.

He was led down a corridor by two men.

Jorge Barrera. The Hispanic man was six foot six, carrying two hundred and eighteen pounds. His shoulders were broad and his figure was thickset. One might call him an “immovable object” of sorts - and this description wouldn’t be far from incorrect. Years of powerlifting built his body to be comfortable - no, poised - for manhandling a belligerent captive.

Oh, and wrestling. Under the mask, one might be able to see his wide, ugly face. The way he roared, like a literal animal, out in the ring was distinctive to him. The crowd loved the Beast, but no one knew of the Barrera underneath. He grabbed and slammed and choked - that was the only thing he knew. 

Dean Miller was considerably smaller than his Mexican counterpart, yet was still menacing at six feet and one inch tall. Athletic and lean, he was significantly lighter - yet compensated for that with his amazing agility and combat prowess. He couldn’t swing and throw someone like Barrera could, but his animalistic instincts were honed to the point of being slightly more than half the reaction time of the average person, putting him in the ninety-eighth percentile of the whole human population.

Dean had something else that Jorge didn’t necessarily have - the heart of a bastard. Jorge followed orders without hesitation. Dean enjoyed them. He was manipulative, silent, intelligent, cunning. Four words that would accurately describe the man - he didn’t give a fuck about moralities. His heart was purple and his soul that of a snake.

The man didn’t bother to resist. In fact, neither of the other two men had laid a hand on him. It was simply agreed that they would walk forward, and he would follow; if he did not, there would be consequences past a warning.

His left arm would be inexplicably twisted by Dean on the left, straining multiple ligaments if not spraining, breaking, tearing them. His face would be slammed into the wall by Jorge on the right, hard enough to shatter several bones in his skull. Internal bleeding would set in following the snapping of the orbital bone. There was an unbelievably high chance of concussion, and depending on what their orders were, they would simply shoot him on the spot in the space of a second without another thought.

The scientist wanted to run.

The scientist was scared.

The scientist wanted his life.

“...Dr. Emerson? Please, I didn’t mean to-”

His rotation to meet him stopped him in the middle of his sentence.

“Oh, Dr. Latrell… We _told_ you to never sell them. If he’d died like he was meant to… Doctor, we would have absolutely no leverage over _Williams_ . _Williams_ , Doctor, _Williams_. The man funding nearly a third of this operation.” His nasal voice was annoying and threatening at the same time.

“Boss, I’m telling you, it wasn’t me - I’d told them to recall the line as soon as-”

“And who is responsible for _your_ subordinates?”

The scientist’s eyes grew wide as he backed out of the room. Terror. Paralysis. Nothing short of fear. He knew what was coming next; he knew, and there was very very little he could do about it all.

“You are.” The grin was almost inhuman.

The scientist almost fell backwards, the way he was retreating.

“You deserve punishment for this mistake. This never ought to happen again.”

He stared at the seated man as he began to approach him. The chair he was in was not a chair, but a _wheelchair_ ; and the pace at which he moved was so, so, slow. It wasn’t his pace; it was his lack of thereof that was threatening.

“I won’t make the same mistake, again, Dr. Emerson; I promise.” It must’ve been God’s will that he finished his sentence without stuttering or missing a beat, because his heart was pounding in the wall of his ear.

From an outsider’s perspective, watching the scene must’ve been simultaneously the most calming and the most bone-chilling experience in their entire lives. It was the former for how still and quiet the room was; but the latter for the malicious, dark smile bore on the seated man’s face.

The two guards remained stoic. The two-metre human brick on the right with a neutral expression, and the devil’s pet on the left with the hint of a grin.

“I know what type of man you are, Dr. Latrell.”

The wheel rotated clockwise twenty-two and a half degrees, propelling the seated man forty-five millimetres forwards.

“You kicked your children out of your home once they found out what you were doing.”

Wicked. The expression now on his face was nothing short of wicked.

“You murdered your partner in cold blood just for a larger share of the company equity.”

Satisfaction. That was one of the emotions the man in the wheelchair felt.

“You’ve never cared for anyone but yourself, Doctor.”

Power. One of the things he wanted, desired, _craved_ in his wretched life; the knowledge that the man opposite would do anything to keep his life.

“Doctor… I’ve harmed, hurt, EVEN _destroyed_ many people in my life.”

The wheelchair had been advancing, slowly but surely, inching forward like the tropical venomous Amazonian insect carrying the lethal sting of a few, tiny, almost inconsequential milligrams, micrograms even, of toxic substance that could murder an elephant in the blink of an eye.

“But, you see, I’ve never met one coward as spineless as you, who cares neither for his kin nor his partners… And only cares for himself. You see, no one has acknowledged it before for you, to your face.”

The nasal man was right underneath him. The scientist was not a short man; in fact, his height could be considered slightly above the average male. He was not a small man either. Yet underneath him, the man cut down to half his size due to disability was his dominant opposition.

“So for a spineless man like yourself… it would be fitting if you had _no_ spine.”

A bolt of lightning-hot fear struck Angus Latrell as his arms were suddenly taken by the two men around him. The Hispanic’s right hand wrapped fully around the thick of his bicep, and the Caucasian’s almost did too.

Without hesitation, the scientist spun and flew into the back wall face first. Several bones in his skull fractured under the sudden impact, and his ears rang from the force, causing temporary deafness in his right. His heart rate shot up suddenly, adrenalin levels increasing to double their baseline levels. His legs acted on their own, scrambling to their senses, trying to run away, to escape from the torture that would inevitably befall him as a result of his presence in the area.

The guards were quicker, though. The big lunk placed both hands on his shoulders, ripping him away from safety.

His heart shot itself in pure, distilled fear.

The other one, however, was quick at work.

Killing was the art of the devil.

A sharp, painful sensation developed in his spine. Latrell turned to see the man grasping a handle buried in his own back, and realised, quickly, he would never walk again. He would never feel his legs underneath him, feel the touch of a woman on his member, feel the ground beneath his feet. He would never feel these sensations he took for granted ever again.

The fifth cerebral vertebra was severed. Something went out, and the CEO, the Ph.D. graduate, the scientist was brought to his knees, unable to stand. He was no longer able to move his arms.

He was still able to see, though.

He was still able to see the face of Clovis Emerson staring right back at him, the grin of wicked intent filling his last sight. Fluid leaked out of his back - not that he felt its runniness or stickiness, or its colour or texture - and wordlessly, he slammed into the ground.

Angus Latrell was dead.


	17. Paralysis by Analysis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fourth to last chapter in Act I. There are several Acts I've planned, guys, so don't worry.
> 
> One quick tip; listen to the news. It becomes important later ;)
> 
> I really had a lot of fun with this one. The first half was kinda difficult and slow to write, but the second I think is absolute gold; one of my richest chapters so far I think. I hope you enjoy it too.
> 
> Please consider leaving a review :D Tell me if saying things like "It becomes important later" is too spoilerish, or if you actually like it, or vice versa - idk whether to keep doing these synopsis-esque notes. Love y'all

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 17: Paralysis By Analysis**

  
  


_[ - Pit - ]_

**_( - Trophy Gallery | Super Smash Bros. Brawl - )_ **

  
  


_ Friday 14th August 2076, 07:32 _

I shot up out of the covers. Sharp pain throbbed in my arm. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t scream, and it reduced to a dull ache.

The pain washed away slowly, and with that the new tide of thought came in.

_What… Oh._

The dream - no, the nightmare… There was some sorta flash and bang. It felt so real, and I remembered the fear, and I had to keep running. I _think_ I jumped up and there was just black, black in front of me; the feeling of falling straight down so fast… and then what?

What was next?

I wanted to know, but I got the feeling that was probably right when I woke up.

I scratched my head once a little too painfully, hitting a tender spot. I almost yelped from the sudden, random pain.

_Knock. Knock, knock._

“Pit?”

“Lady Palutena?” Something fluttered in my chest.

“Are you alright? You shouted some nonsense just then.”

“Yeah…? Uh,” I scratched my head, “nothin’, just-just a bad dream.”

“C’mon, Pit, is there something wrong?” Lady Palutena put her hand on her hip, concerned.

_Not now, tough guy._

“Lady Palutena, I’m arright.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “If you say so.”

The wall looked kinda comfortable right now.

“But remember, I’m _always_ available… if you need me, Pit.”

“Ye, yeah. Thanks, Lady Palutena.”

“See you downstairs.”

“See ya.”

I ran my hands along the back of my head, feeling the hair on it, being careful not to jerk around the injured wrist from Wednesday’s fight.

Winning and earning my spot in _Ultimate…_

It didn’t really feel that much of a _win_. It was nice, sure… But it wasn’t like there was no possibility in the first place of me not getting in; it wasn’t as though I felt assured or confident enough to get in.

It was just cos’ I don’t think I ever thought about it that much.

Maybe that was a bad thing.

_I dunno._

“Ya’ll be arright, Pit,” I spoke to the mirror, more for self-assurance than anything else. Mac’s words echoed in my head. _I reckon confidence doesn’t cause those things - but it’s doing those things that actually causes confidence._

_Maybe that’s what I need… For Lady Palutena._

I felt just nervous thinking about it, but I held hope in my hands still.

_Maybe, maybe there’s a sliver of a chance…_

Yeah, maybe.

_You’re not gonna get anywhere just staying up here._

Without more thought, I walked out of the room and down the steps. Opposite, on the couch, Mac sat next to Lady Palutena. She giggled, running her fingers through her really, uhm, gorgeous, hair again. Sonic sat in the corner, smirking.

“Heya, Mac! Mornin’, Sonic.” Sonic waggled his nonexistent eyebrows.

“Morning, Pit,” Mac said sleepily. “How’d you sleep after that fat W?”

“Arright enough,” I lied.

“Good to hear.”

The TV played some opening tune to the morning news and I turned to look. Red lines swirled around, forming the words _Smash City News_ onscreen. I could recognize that, at least. I plopped down next to Lady Palutena.

“Good morning everyone, and welcome back to the daily seven-am _Smash News_. First of all, just last evening, tensions between the respective governments of Belterra and Zhichia have further risen following the latter’s increase to military spending by over 50% in the previous quarter of 2076.”

 _Wh...what?_ “Lady Palutena, what is he talking about?”

She raised a hand, her face dead serious, as the TV anchor continued.

“A Zhichia National Party representative from Xihsa, its most populous city and capital, has said ‘the need for a strong military and the importance of security cannot be overstated.’ This, in turn, has provoked suspicion in Belterra capital Dokmus, better known as Smash City.”

The camera cut to a foreign-looking guy speaking at a stand, with subtitles at the bottom.

“Jane’s not gonna like this,” Mac murmured.

“No, she’s not,” Sonic decided. Mac shot him a look, but shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m not gonna tell her - she’s just gonna freak the hell out, dude.”

Lady Palutena finally turned to me. “So… The conflict between these countries has existed over the past few decades. Zhichia has always been reputed as the country for technology and software; however, silicon is only found in large amounts in Belterra. Recently, though, Belterran companies have been driving silicon prices up for profits - this wasn’t stopped by the government either. That has been a large thorn in Zhichia’s economy’s side, Pit; which is where this entire thing is from.” Lady Palutena’s face was dark and frowning.

“How… how bad is it?”

“It’s not good. The fact that they’ve increased military spending means they’re… I don’t know for certain, and I don’t want to say, but the situation is not stable now. Although it’s not likely, the worst outcome could even be war.”

My heart jolted hearing that final word.

_War._

It was sort of a panic I think I felt. It was dull and right in my chest; I felt scared and terrified. But at the same time… there was an…

_No, you sick pig, you can’t possibly-_

-there was a relief or an excitement that maybe I could feel that again.

_To be on the edge of death..._

“Wouldn’t there be some sort of… international treaty, or something? I mean, y’ can’t just wage war whenever you want, could you?” Mac asked. His face was broken with worry.

“Yeah. Normally, you’d be right. But this isn’t like your Earth, Mac; there are much fewer formed, developed countries. In fact, Belterra and Zhichia were the only rapidly growing countries in a small handful because of their geographies and rich resources - so who’s going to uphold a treaty if there are so few nations available to intervene?”

 _Awh, she’s so smart._ My hand drifted to the back of my head. I scratched my scalp.

“That, uh… sounds pretty damn bad for the future,” Mac replied.

While we talked, the news had already shifted to the _Smash_ side of things.

“Hello everyone, and we all hope you are having a splendid evening - I’m Matt Christine and this is Jennifer Langston for _Smash on the Rise_ , your daily source of news for the preliminary tournaments.” The guy spoke so fast he barely had breaks between words.

“Yes Matt, that’s right - especially since public leaderboards have shut down as of yesterday morning to maintain the suspense for the reveal of the actual, final, qualified fighters!”

_I wonder if they’re married and have a contest to see who speaks the fastest, huh._

“I see you, Jen - but we are allowed to update you on the top five so far!” The glasses dude winked and the display transformed into a leaderboard.

“In the top spot, we have the famous bounty hunter Samus Aran, having won all four of her four matches - and in two, achieved a clean sweep of her opponents.” A golden, shining 1 flashed next to her image.

“In second is the electric rodent Pokémon, Pikachu, with very similar results.” The silver equivalent, a 2, then appeared next to Pikachu’s photo.

“That’s right, Matt - in fact, we’ve seen that although these fighters are lighter, and so are launched farther upon hitstun, they compensate for that with their incredible agility and skill - for example, the way Samus manipulates her whip.”

“You’re absolutely correct, Jen; faster fighters are generally more successful than stronger, slower characters.”

The back-and-forth was so quick it felt like it was taking place in milliseconds rather than half-minutes.

“Funnily enough, though, Mr. Christine, in third place, guess who we’ve got?”

Ganondorf held his hand out in a palm strike, a 3D model display rotating on the screen. 

“Jen, we’ve got the Kin-”

I turned around as the TV turned black.

“I can barely stand those two,” Sonic muttered, putting down the remote.

“Agreed. I was going to do that anyways; that just reminded me about why I called you this morning, Mac,” she walked over to the laptop in the dining room opposite. “Look at this.”

Lady Palutena flipped open the device, punching in a few keys. 

“I’ve analysed Ganon’s _Tournament 4_ and _Ultimate_ battles, and we’re definitely right. I’d made some statistical notes, but I think it’s pretty visible for yourself. First up - air acceleration and speed,” she said, pressing the spacebar.

Ganondorf faced off against a tall blonde swordfighter who slashed forward, and his opponent flew right. When he began falling back to the stage, it was like there was a massive invisible wall in front of him, because he wasn’t moving anywhere.

“That… is _Tournament 4_. This… is a few weeks ago.” Marth dashed on-screen backwards and forwards, trying to confuse Ganondorf. Ganondorf feinted towards him, but Marth extended his sword arm, cutting across the darker man’s armor. He yelled in pain, and flew away from the stage.

“In the arena, it didn’t look _that bad_ ,” Sonic commented. Ganondorf’s horizontal drift was much faster than before; the invisible wall was broken.

“I know,” Lady Palutena replied.

“Any numbers or percentages?”

“You can visually estimate it, but it doesn’t matter; the second thing you need to see is his weight. He looks to be the same height and build here, without armor.”

“Ya’re right, Lady Palutena.” She nodded.

Mac nodded, grumbling under his breath as though something just hit him. “Ahhh… I get it - I get what you’re saying. He’s… he’s eating a moderately-strong tipper slash by Marth at 87% in this second clip; in the first,” he continued, adjusting the video, “he’s taking a slightly weaker move, I mean, just judging by how fast the guy’s swingin’, without the tipper aspect at 69%, in the first clip. The distance he flew…”

“Is about the same.” Lady Palutena finished his sentence.

“Damn.”

“‘Damn’ is right. That knockback should be significantly greater… but isn’t. That takes me to my last point. His specials.”

“Which ones, Lady Palutena?”

“All of them.”

“What the hell!? Wait, Palu - you’re being serious? Is there - are there are no ‘balancing’ nerfs to compensate that, like, at all?”

“There are only so many areas one can be buffed or nerfed in by external forces, Mac. Air speed, air acceleration, weight, armor, special moves, fall speed, gravity, and tools. I believe that’s all of them. We’ve already covered the first three or maybe four. Fall speed and gravity increasing has pros and cons of its own, anyways… so… there’s not much else to say here, is there?”

Mac just muttered “damn” under his breath again.

“Alright, Pit, which one do you want to start with?”

“Flame Choke,” Sonic interjected.

She clicked a file and played it. _GanonSideSpecial.mov_ . “Starts up faster, and more distance. In _Tournament 4_ , he couldn’t use both it _and_ Dark Dive, but now it doesn’t induce helplessness.”

“That’s pretty crazy in and of itself,” Mac commented, hands on his hips, expression furrowed into a frown. “That makes his recovery go from one of the worst in the game… to one of the most _dangerous_.”

“I know,” Lady Palutena shook her head.

“That’s not sexy at all.” Mac stared in disbelief.

“I don’t think that’s the right word to use, Mac,” Lady Palutena said, stifling a laugh. “But yeah, that’s ‘not sexy at all’.”

“Hey, I’m just sayin’.”

_Ganondorf… has been buffed significantly and there’s no reasoning behind it. From one of the worst fighters to now one of the best? Is there… oh, man, is there something going on behind the scenes?_

Mac played a second clip onscreen. _DarkDive.mp4_. “Number two. Arright, well, y’see the distance he travels upwards is a lot farther - Pit, you were right about that.” Mac’s finger traced Ganondorf’s figure. “But take a look at that horizontal drift - it’s much farther too, so it’s like he’s got better control of his body and movement and such when he’s using it.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Lady Palutena responded.

“Wait.”

“Yeah, Pit?” Mac’s finger hovered over the mousepad.

“Go back a little.”

The swordfighter Marth dropped off the edge to harass Ganondorf offstage. He turned around in midair to strike. Because of the video quality, it was hard to tell… But, it almost seemed as though the tip of his sword grazed Ganondorf’s back.

“Mac, do ya see what I see?”

“What is it?”

“Look here.” The silver tip of Marth’s sword had sliced cleanly into Ganondorf’s back.

“Man, my eyesight has gone to shit, honestly. Good spot.” He shook his head. “So… he’s not only gotten greater distance, but also _super armor_ on the move?”

“What’s that?” Sonic asked.

I started, but Mac had already begun speaking. “When a move goes through regardless of whether the user is hit. Look, this reaaally _only_ happens for special moves - because those are the only moves that change how our bodies react to external forces, I reckon.”

“But Mac, I’ve seen ya tank straight hits and still punch them hard!”

“I’m gettin’ there. In general, the one thing I am given is a… uh, in-built resistance of sorts to moves; I dunno how it works fully, but if my arms have enough momentum in the lead up to a punch in a precise time frame, I get the benefits of the super armor.”

“Hm.” She furrowed her eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

“In short, Ganon’s been buffed,” Sonic said, folding his arms, “and he’s been buffed so much it can’t have been a mistake. Something is going on between Ganondorf and whoever’s organizing these tournaments.”

“No doubt,” Mac replied.

I stared into the ground. Mac seemed to be doing the same.

_Is it because… he’s wondering why he hasn’t received the same treatment? Or is it because he’s thinking about what on earth would have made Ganon, of all fighters, the candidate for such a wild rework? So Ganon is getting in… instead of him, and he’s wondering why? Jealousy, maybe?_

He shook his head slowly in disbelief.

Mac wasn’t really himself as of late; even though he was super happy as normal, there was always something behind it. There was something behind his… facade? If that was _even_ the right word… There was something behind it that was affecting him. I didn’t know how to ask, but it was kinda instinctive to feel that.

_How do I approach Mac if he’s purposely pretending to be okay?_

I closed my eyes.

_“Pit, sometimes you have to accept that you don’t have all the answers. It’s alright to not know it all.”_

The sudden memory of Lady Palutena’s voice jolted me a little. Her voice was so pretty, but she was also so knowing. She knew pretty much everything in the world. Thinking about her words… she must be right. Something about a growth mindset or whatever.

I had to try, at least.

If not now, tonight.

And if not tonight… whenever he needed it the most.

  
  


• • • • •

_[ - Little Mac - ]_

**_( - Calem/Serena Theme | Pokémon X and Y - )_ **

  
  


_The next Tuesday 18th August 2076, 20:54_

I felt strange.

The possibility of war in Smash City was real. What Palu said was pretty spot on having looked it up and all… and the fact that my literal life, rather than my ‘metaphorical’ life at Smash could be in danger in the near future was scary. It was worrying.

Really, there was quite little I could do. That was both a good thing and a bad thing at the same time - but the fact of the matter was that these were things that I couldn’t worry about now.

By thinking about it… any form of battle or whatever wouldn’t come any more or less quickly. Besides, right now it was only a chance, a slim chance; not a concrete reality. And even though it’d been keeping me up a bit at night… I still had to live my life.

The amount of time spent thinking about it had diminished from a lot that Friday, to a bit on Saturday morning, to intermittently the past couple days. I’d say I was doing a pretty good job coping.

Aside from that, the last couple days had gone by without drama. In fact, they were pretty good - Jane had finally landed me a few clients for the gym - first, a good reason for me to get out of the house, and second, another source of income. Rent was covered by the organisation, but utilities, food and other things were not; it was always good to save also.

On Saturday, we’d watched Falc duke it out with Falco, the avian aviator who was also his namesake. Actually, maybe it was the other way around.

_Does it matter?_

“WHAT AN ICONIC MATCHUP!”

I wondered if the matches were sometimes rigged just for the sake of ratings because Falcon versus Falco? That sounded pretty unreal.

Regardless, though, the fight was pretty unbalanced in a couple of ways - Falco had a ranged weapon in his fast Blaster which shot very rapid bright blue shots, but Falc lacked one. On the other hand, the Captain was much faster than Falco on both the ground and in the air.

Falco played defensively, attacking at a distance to capitalise on his projectile imbalance. In contrast, most of the game, Falc tried chasing, rushing his opponent down, closing the distance to eliminate the imbalance in the fight. _“Falcon Kick!”_ The way he yelled it was so iconic I could still remember it.

His other favourite move to initiate was his uppercut, the Raptor Boost. Fire trailed along the side of his arm, burning in the air as it smacked into the pilot, sending him high in the air. Falc often followed it up with an upwards-aimed bicycle kick or hearty punch, each of which thundered in the arena much to the delight of the crowd.

“FAL-CON-PUNCH! FAL-CON-PUNCH!”

They screamed, they shrieked, they yelled. The fanfare was exhilarating to experience. And true enough, just like they - no, _we_ \- insisted, Captain Falcon’s right fist seared a bright orange, the fiery hot colour of the sun.

In midair, as Falco came hurtling down from the finish-up of a previous combo, Falcon did the dirty and swivelled around, in total and complete control and style. Light flashed off his helmet as he struck forward, the symbolic eagle flame burning around his face in a contained hot neon fire. His entire body thrust with him, as a red bolt of electricity flared off the bird’s body, rocketing into the westernmost blast zone.

Palu had gone absolutely wild, losing herself, and so did I. Not only was I happy for him, I was just _pumped_. The way he’d pulled off that final move was honest-to-god so crazy, so crazily artistic.

So stylish.

And the pop-off afterwards was wild. In fact, Pit and I almost fell into a couple of the other audience members, but spending the night with the guys was enough to make me smile in retrospect.

Then, there was the way Jane looked… the way Jane looked so whole, so happy… I could not place it. Although she was the most positive woman in the world I knew, and always encouraging to the people she valued around her… as of this year, she’d exhibited these expressions and emotions herself much less frequently. Her smiles were still common, but often they lacked their former strength; it was almost as though she was sending a silent message - ‘do as I say, not as I do’.

But that day… she was so full, so beautiful and so present in the moment.

I would have pointed it out but I couldn’t break that precious bubble of acknowledgment.

We just jumped up and down, screaming into the dark air of the night at eleven thirty four pm, Sonic spin-dashing circles around the group, Palu flying around with her own sexy feminine exuberance, until we thought we were probably waking up the whole neighbourhood.

Then we realised it was a Saturday and we were in the party district.

The madness continued. My adrenalin peaked that night and I was coated in this sweat, but it was energetic sweat that I didn’t mind at all, and I’d hugged all of them about four times each until I got home. They didn’t mind it either.

That night was good.

In the days after, I’d gone to the park a couple of times, just to reflect. To be grateful for the times that I had. Mentally preparing myself for the prospect of… failure?

Failure.

I was fine with failure. The only time I was not okay with failure was when there were people who had high hopes for me.

But this time… the stakes were my life.

No, I could not _fucking_ lose my life here.

It made me tear up just a little bit thinking about it.

I loved them all so much.

That day in the park… It was a Sunday. The sky was a light faded blue, placid and somewhat passive in its character. Friendly, even welcoming, but not necessarily warm or enthusiastic.

I sat back into the arch of the bench, the feeling on my butt a little unpleasant. It was somewhat cold, even with my hoodie on, for some reason. Chills occasionally bit my skin like little annoying mosquitoes.

Even with the imperfections of the day, I realised this damn well could be my last Sunday in Smash City. Ever. Period. Given the name of the tournament - _Ultimate_ \- it was somewhat unlikely that there would ever be another tournament like this. Smash City was a normal city in the multiverse of its own, and had its own inhabitants similar to any other - travellers were allowed to come in from their respective universes.

However, there were some universes which had not yet discovered universal travel. In order to not disrupt events in these universes, especially given Universe-A was the central and only universe that linked the others (at least, that which had been found), the only people from those worlds allowed entry were fighters, and on short stay. The reason being was that people would figure out those individuals were missing - and what sort of disparities in timelines would that cause?

Guess whose Universe fell into that category.

There was the finish of _Tournament 4_.

The first time I came home, all alone, I felt crushed to pieces. Dante was the only one who I told, and I told him all about Palutena, Pit, Jane, Sonic, Falcon and R.O.B., and the strangely fitting similarities to home yet the stark differences, the fights, the holidays, the times we spent together… but having no contact to a single one of them burned my soul.

Photos and videos and other media were instantly corrupted upon interuniversal travel. To an extent… it was, it was as though they’d never existed at all. My best friends, the people I trusted and finally had a connection with… no trace of them anywhere.

I had been depressed for about three years. And there was no one who really got it.

Pit at least had Palutena, y’know.

And Falcon built R.O.B.

The only people who would’ve understood were Sonic and Jane. Sonic never let anything get to him anyways, and Jane was busy building her business. She had a direction, and it was forward.

Me?

_Me?_

I was in a stasis. There was no purpose in my life.

I remembered how the cold wooden surface sank into my butt through the seat of my pants. I remembered how I felt cold sting my cheeks. I remembered when I realised I was crying hard tears on that bench.

_Doc…_

_Oh, god, after he died, that was it. A washed up boxing superstar who peaked at seventeen…_ I shook my head, half in disbelief and half in despair. _I missed Smash so much, and it hurt to lose Pit and Palutena and everyone for so many years._ _I couldn’t even talk to them on the phone or whatever - it was like they were dead._ There had been flashes of an office in New York, a cliffside, and a cold, apathetic feeling of sheer loneliness. More bitter cold.

I recalled the haunting laughter on that bench, having been in physical and proverbial pain, and of bittersweet happiness. A few stares were attracted here and there, pairs of eyes glued to the strange hooded teenager on the bench. _Oh, Jesus…_ I recalled that, now with tears in my eyes of the memory - there were so many layers to my emotion I barely could comprehend it.

I felt it deeply, viscerally. I sat on my bed, the dim corner light going off. That day in the park, in retrospect, was less to do with gratitude, and more to do with catharsis, with the release of emotions. I didn’t want this to drag Pit or Palu or anyone down.

My phone buzzed.

_( INCOMING CALL - PITHEAD)_

**_O_ ** _Decline | Accept?_ **_I_ **

I sighed and pressed Accept.

“H’lo?”

“Mac?”

“Yeah, what’s up bro.”

“How are ya? How ya feeling?”

“About tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

I didn’t know really where to start. I wanted to say I was feeling just fine, because I was tired and wanted to go to sleep.

But really, this could be one of the last chances I got to talk to Pit one on one; perhaps forever. If there was a time for me to be honest… it was now.

“I dunno, Pit. Can I be honest with you?”

“Sure, man, go ahead.”

“It’s scary. My performance tomorrow might very well determine the rest of my life, in the most literal of senses. I am confident - I know I can win, even though empirically speaking there’s nothing of the sort to indicate I can. I’ve put that out of my mind. It’s just… I’m scared to go back to that life of mine.”

“Was it that bad, Mac?”

“No… well, I’m better off than most. I think I should be grateful for that at least. It’s just… after I came here, I never felt at home back there. It was like I was uncomfortable in my own skin.”

The fan’s rotor ticked gently overhead, the heartbeat of the wind raining down on me. I heard, or more, _imagined_ Pit’s face. The phone was strangely silent, as though he was carefully replaying the words I said to him.

It was so hard to envision him. That is, to imagine Pit, thinking solemnly. Sometimes he ran his hand under his chin, pretend-thinking, as a joke when Palu or I said something absurdly and inappropriately profound; yet somehow this wasn’t that lighthearted a situation, and I just saw, in my mind’s eye, Pit focus really hard into nothing the same way I did.

“Mac, I think I get ya.”

He spoke almost as if he’d completely _got_ me. Not sympathy - empathy.

“Mmh.”

“Mac, I dunno if I told ya this. But, er, I guess I’m a believer,” he paused, trying to let the words out. “...in fate.

“Like, maybe there isn’t already a book of stuff with all the events and facts and stuff that happen here. But, ya know, I think there’s some sorta… energy, that guides things to the way they should be. Maybe ya could call it a… _hand_? Ya get me?” Without waiting for my response, Pit kept going. “I… I got a strange feeling, Mac, ya shouldn’t worry. I know that ya worked hard to try and win. These last couple fights obviously haven’t really gone your way and stuff. I know things weren’t working out and all - so I guess the hand would sorta reward ya for all that. The universe and balance and stuff… I mean, I hope that’s how ya see it too, but do ya feel me - are ya picking up what I’m putting down, Mac?”

The sudden insight from Pit shook me awake. Although he was outgoing and extroverted… Pit wasn’t always the most dominant person in discussion, but when he had his moments, he had his moments; and he was always so clear despite the roundabout way he sort of had with some of his words. Not like I was any more concise, though.

“Uh… Mac?” Pit tentatively prodded. I’d completely forgotten I was still talking to the guy.

“I feel you one hundred percent, Pit.”

_Fate, huh._

“Sorry if I was going off on a tangent or whatever, but ya kno-”

“Nah, bro, you helped me immensely.”

“Huh, thanks.” He paused a bit before going on. “Good to know I’m doin’ somethin’ right.”

I laughed a bit at that. Maybe I shouldn’t have.

“You are, man. You always do - hell, Pit, these last few weeks with you have been the best dawg.” I figured… might as well let it all out. If Pit was wrong, I wanted to be able to know that I’d said everything I wanted to say to him.

“Y’mean that?”

“Yeah dude - I mean, I always look forward to hanging out with y’all. Doc once told me that for someone to provide you value, someone can just be, y’know, making you happy. And Pit, you make me and everyone else around ya happy. You bring a lot to the table, man, and I love you, bro.”

“Someone cuttin’ onions in here?” He nervously laughed. “Thanks, Mac. I love ya too, dude.”

“I legitimately mean it, bro.”

He was a big part of why I was hanging on for dear life, so desperately trying to stay alive in this very place, clinging onto that thread.

“So, uh… are ya feeling physically alright for tomorrow, dude?”

“Yeah - I don’t need to get up that early, so we got time. You just wanna sit here, and talk a little?”

“Sure, dude.”

The room felt cooler, and I put the phone on speaker right beside my head. I lay down on the bed sprawled across diagonally. My eyes naturally sunk back and lulled, floating to find the fan’s rotation on the ceiling. I yawned one big yawn. I was pretty sleepy, despite it only being nine o’ clock.

“You ever think about how quick time goes?”

“All the time.”

“It’s like just yesterday that we were in _Tournament 4_ , y’know? It feels completely alien to me, this idea of a cutoff - last time, there was no such thing, remember that? And now I’m stressing over this, it feels so weird.” I sighed. “That was a good time, man. 2073 was a great year for me.”

“Same, dude. Ya remember the cliffs?”

“Oh shit, Pit, I do!” It was another small island off the tip of Smashville, sort of to the west of where we went to last week. The Stand Inlets, they called them. Pit got the idea one day walking around near one of the touristy areas of Smashville.

I recalled the way I felt back then, as a sixteen-year-old experiencing the feeling of friendship all renewed and special, in a completely foreign and alien world. The sun’s power glistening off the water burned my eyes. I distinctly recalled struggling to stay afloat treading in the deep blue of the ocean, while Palu splashed me playfully with water.

“That was awesome, Pit - I remember Jane being super tentative about it for like half an hour about the jump, even though Palu and I’d both gone in. It took both you and Falc to get her into the water - remember that?”

“Dude… yeah, I totally remember that. Oh - and the way she screamed, that was the _best_ , oh jeez…” I could hear his smile return.

“Sonic bitched out that day, dawg, what was that?”

Pit laughed. “Yeah, he stayed till after Falcon and I both jumped, then sprinting as fast as he could away from the scene.”

“We took the piss out of him for days - he did not like that one bit.” He guffawed over the phone. It really just was like old days.

The five of us yelling in the ocean, motioning for our final non-electronic member to join us unsuccessfully… The image was pretty damn clear in my head. It was like we were all young. Jane wasn’t twenty-three; she was twenty. Pit was, well, equivalent to about probably fourteen or fifteen in human years. I was still, well, a kid. A teenager, an adolescent; pretty much a big kid.

The pure feeling was something I missed absolutely, and would give anything to experience again. It was a big gap, a big jump; the difference of three years and it being my virgin experience in this world compared to a second now so richly contrasted, juxtaposing against each other like black and white.

I shared that sentiment with him. Then, seconds flew by, then minutes, then hours as Pit and I talked about all that glorious year. The multitude of smaller sub-tournaments we took part in and lost in, the group night-outings, the island visits and the stay-overs, the two weeks Falcon spent in prison for his multiple speeding tickets and Jane expanding her gym.

Then, there were our own individual experiences that we shared - things the other wouldn’t necessarily have known about at the time, like my side job as a tutor for some of the younger Smash kids including Lucas, and his apprenticeship at a mechanic so he could improve his own weapons more easily… He talked about Palu, or ‘Lady Palutena’, still a little shyly, and I felt my heart warm for him; underneath all that wacky humor, Pit’s heart was full and loving. I was about to say something about her and I, but there was nothing good I could say, could add to the conversation that wouldn’t upset him. If it was my last conversation one-on-one with him, I wouldn’t want to tarnish the relationship between him and Palu.

Hell, I stopped him by the time I realised we’d been talking for three hours, because it was twelve. _How am I gonna sleep enough now…?_

_The match is tomorrow at nine-thirty!_

“G’night, Pit.”

“Night. Sleep well, dude.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Ya got it, chief.”

I tapped the phone. I was alone.

I felt so, so exhausted I was ready for sleep to come and take me once again. The talk was emotionally tiring, but at the same time… well, I mean, at the same time it was like there was motivation. I had to do it - if not for me, for them.

If I lost, I couldn’t give a fuck less.

But if I didn’t make it in for them, my soul would be crushed.

Maybe I would come to regret thinking that tomorrow, because that thought, perhaps a quote, stayed with me for long after. Maybe I would care more about winning. Maybe it would be different were I not sleep-deprived and connected to a steel machine that fed me aqueous nostalgia through IV tubes.

Maybe it would be.

But for now…

Just for tonight...

My thoughts of them carried me like a gentle wind, and then, I was sailing on the skies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is coming out either next Tuesday morning or Friday night as normal! Get excited guys, Ch18, 19 and 20 are all super super big for the story's progression as a whole, no cap.


	18. The Crux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Crux: the most difficult portion of a climb.' ~Wikipedia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest standalone chapter as of yet at 6.7k words; this took me near a week to write because of that, but it's one of my faves so far. A bit draggy in parts... but, it was one of the most satisfying to complete. We advance the story in leaps and bounds in this chapter, so, uh, enjoy!

**Volume 18: The Crux**

  
  


_[ - Little Mac - ]_

**_( - Second Dark Matter Battle | Pokémon Super Mystery Dungeon OST - )_ **

  
  


_ Wednesday 19th August 2076, 10:37 _

The floor rumbled and the crowd rumbled too.

“FIGHTERS!”

_Hoh, god._

“ARE YOU READY?”

I gave the slightest of nods, narrowing my eyes.

_“It’s doing those things that actually causes confidence, not the other way around.”_

Fire from behind my face. The two-tonne beast grinned, in turn, at me from the other side of the stage. Bowser looked as enthusiastic as I felt.

I wanted to get after him like my life depended on it. Someone shouted in the crowd that I’d missed the countdown.

I flicked my head back, and all of a sudden the monster was right in front of me. He reached out far, palms the size of my torso.

Sweat coursed through my palms as I sidestepped the quick grab. His hand flashed an inch in front of my neck.

_Punish._

He wasn’t close enough for a deep uppercut, but enough…

Enough for a straight smash.

I felt Bowser’s tender flesh from underneath the surface of the glove and immediately felt his weight. It was going to take many strikes to fell this tree.

Yet, he still roared in agony.

The ground shook underneath me, and I almost lost my balance as he fell back from his previously dominant position.

The crowd exploded.

“WHAT’S THIS?! THE UNDERDOG, LITTLE MAC DRAWS FIRST BLOOD!”

_Yeah. That’s right._

I rushed up to him, ready to continue. The beast was still on the ground, unable to properly break his fall.

 _One._ Gentle jab.

 _Two._ Locking punch.

 _Three._ The sweeping uppercut. Fire burned the tip of my fist as I yelled in bloodlust, my skin going hot just at the thought. Bowser’s weight wasn’t enough to compensate for the sheer power I carried.

He tumbled down from above. All of a sudden, the hulking yellow turtle’s mottled flesh turned to green.

_Oh god._

He was above me, then above me, then right at my face level, the forest green of his shell falling first with the sharp, lethal-looking spikes. I brought my fists up to guard, left before right.

The floor rippled as he landed. I tripped, landing right on my ass.

Bowser grinned, as bloodthirstily as I.

But this time, I was on the receiving end, and I was _scared_.

I scrambled to my feet to watch him twist in mid-air, thrusting the entire five hundred pounds of leg mass and muscle into my face.

_No, n-_

The feet landed into my midsection.

Lights spun. My, my stomach. I couldn’t breathe. Then, it was my eyes; my eyes frazzled as the sun shone straight into them for the briefest second, and glimpses of the crowd here and there graced my vision, some black spots blotting them out.

I tumbled, and watched as the stage fell away from me, stomach feeling incomprehensible pain, as though a dozen critical arteries had been ruptured and bled freely into their respective internal organs.

_No time to think._

_No, not now._

_Not now._

_Last fight._ My blood boiled thinking about how I had to do right by them.

Jump.

Jolt Haymaker.

I watched as I felt the ulnar bone stretch, blue flames illuminating my hand, ripping at Bowser’s arm, then the stage so roughly my grip would’ve otherwise peeled. Out of my periphery, he flew backwards.

An inhuman scream. More cries.

I looked up. My hand - it stayed - I gritted my teeth, upper lip pressed into the lower as hard as possible.

_YES._

Fanfare shot my ears like gunfire.

I pulled myself up, a white cloak of invincibility shrouding me. Not that I’d had to worry about that, though; Bowser stood close to the centre-point of the stage.

Without warning, the dragon rushed up with that same damn surprising speed.

I raised my guard high. Flashes of watching his prior battles, and how he jumped up at his opponents to rake those dangerous ivory claws of his against their tender faces instead of their armored bodies or shields…

Bowser stopped just short, feet shooting out. My left calf tightened in tension, barely reducing the impact of having the beast kick my legs out from under me.

But then, there was no ground beneath me.

That’s when I felt it.

Really, I felt it more than I saw it, upside down in the air. My back tore, nothing but an acid, alcoholic, raw pain shocking the nerves of my skin. The slash finally happened, right underneath my body, and I’d taken the brunt of it.

My heart weakened as I struggled to find the ground visually.

Ears, hearing, ringing. I lashed out an arm, a hand, and it’d connected. It smacked something hard on the way down.

Bowser grunted. The only other proof I had was the commentator.

“MAC LANDS HIS FIRST AERIAL ATTACK OF THE SEASON!”

Fifteen-ish metres away from me, or maybe at the very least a few more than ten, and yet his figure still towered over… what seemed like the world.

We were back to neutral.

And this time, I would take the exchange.

_Wait._

I stood my guard, the numbness in the abdomen finally setting in.

_He won’t expect it-_

I didn’t know how I still stood after that double kick.

_-if you go-_

My shoulder muscles began to ache; my endurance wasn’t sapping yet, but from experience, it would soon start to truly take a toll.

_-now!_

I burst forward quickly, quad muscles firing; I consciously clenched them so hard, driving myself forward as fast and as powerfully as possible. They burned, they burned.

Bowser looked shocked as I closed the gap in two seconds.

_Tilted punch!_

I struck down at his feet, tripping him before he could put up his guard.

Bowser dashed out of the combo strike as my head spun.

Saturated. Blurred. With a yellow tint.

My vision suddenly went that same colour again, as that training session, where I got knocked, knocked out of the… The, the K.O. punch, it was here.

I was going to take first blood for real.

He screamed darkly, sprinting towards me.

_Bring it on, you ugly bastard._

My fist burst again, making contact with the belly of the beast.

Spinning scarlet sparks of light evolved off my fist in a swirling spiral column of fire; and it was stunning. Scintillating. Vision flares, spots, stuck to the irises of my eyes and slowly, I stepped back onto hard ground. Sparkling water coursed through the right arm as though it weren’t even mine; it went numb.

My ears rang, and I got light headed immediately.

I floated. In - and out - of consciousness.

But this time - I was still alive. I saw - watched - observed as the crowd lost their absolute shit, at what they saw.

Bowser was completely gone - rocketed up to the sky.

_God-damn good start, Mac._

I grinned as the fans screamed my name, steam rising off my body.

  
• • • • •

**_( - Pokémon League (Night) | Pokémon Diamond / Pearl - )_ **

  
  


“Mac, I’m so _fucking_ proud of you.”

I went to heaven, feeling her kiss on my forehead.

The tight feeling of being squeezed half to death was so welcome, and there was a degree to which I was about to _cry_.

In happiness and warmth, of course; the moment was that _perfect_.

“Mac, oh my god, I love you so much,” Palu whispered. Her breathing was heavy.

I myself barely breathed, and I hugged her tighter, letting tears spill out of my eyes, feeling the compression in my muscles and the nice, sexy feel of her skin and her thick chest, on mine. I rested my chin on her shoulder as she did on mine.

Finally, we were the same height.

I peered out, the saline solution coming out a little less fast. We were in the park, the late morning crowd filing out of the stadium. A light breeze baptized my hair.

The wind flashed in my mind. It had cut across my shoulder like a razor, reminding me to look back. Bowser’s larger-than-life figure stomped across the stage at a scarily fast pace, and holy shit I was SCARED of the two-tonne beast, throughout the entire damn match.

On the last stock, the dragon-thing launched his body forward, aiming his clawed feet at my nuts.

I’d sidestepped it.

I shuddered in her grasp, feeling her feminine comforts.

 _Beware the horns, beware the horns!_ I socked him in the chest; the monster roared, pushed back. The crowd chanted “Mac” wildly as white steam rose with the temperament of a mad scientist off my body. It felt so _hot_ and it was hard to breathe.

My brain was honestly fried. I could barely comprehend what happened.

It didn’t help that my entire perception, my entire reality was flipped; somehow, I’d gotten the legendary villain down to his final stock without losing a single of mine; I felt like I was a god amongst men, but I couldn’t, I _couldn’t_ _think_ about that.

Losing this stock could mean the difference between qualifying and not.

_Focus._

Bowser got back to his feet. I glanced backwards. I was closer to the centre of the stage than he. The beast gritted his teeth, frustrated.

I dashed forward, letting my momentum carry me. I was ready, _ready_ to finish him off, just looking at the white smoke rising off his body. Not as much as mine, but he was going down.

I smashed my fists forward. One-two. 

Panic had set in as I felt them come into contact with the rough, mottled skin and tough muscle of his arms instead of his face. Bowser grinned. He wrapped, squeezed… she wrapped, squeezed… he spun around and tossed me so far it felt like my legs were flying way over my head.

The wind was... _lifting_ me too.

_Oh no._

My legs leaped off the nothing. I slapped something hard with my right hand. The ledge.

A muscle strained in my forearm as I struggled to stay on; it was so, so slick and slippery and I was so tired. Sweat soaked my singlet, beads of it dripping into the abyss.

I barely mustered the strength to get up.

Bowser was now in control. Breath of red, hot fire was spewing across the stage.

He grinned.

_Oh, you think you’re so smart?_

I grinned.

An idea formed in my head. _Straight Lunge…_

Straight Lunge.

Suddenly, Pit was by my side again. The laptop, the movie, Palu. Palu. I remembered how we talked about the super armor, and how I could take hits…

 _Straight Lunge_.

The announcer said something.

_He’s let his guard down, Mac baby, do yo’ thing!_

Fire pressed into the steel of my hand, the bones, the phalanges feeling as though they were breaking. I gritted my teeth and grimaced. This was it.

My hand turned blue, bluer, then this beautiful, rich deep blue. It felt like concrete was filling the inside of my hand. Something snapped in my core muscles.

I couldn’t hold it any longer.

Bowser’s expression turned from victorious and triumphant to confused. The flames kept coming out of his mouth. They scorched my face and my singlet. Yet, I only felt this weak heat like that of a hot summer’s day, or perhaps a sauna.

My fist slammed with the force of a tsunami into the soft underbelly of the beast. He screamed inhumanly.

My fist cloaked itself in this ebbing red energy that leaked, right up against the edge of the stage. I felt the edge of the stage cut across the midfoot of my shoe.

I peered over and watched as Bowser flew, wide-eyed, into the edge of the blast zone.

I didn’t see him disappear; all I saw was white. Other colours shot me in the face, but I shut my eyes to avoid being blinded by it.

The loudest cheers came from the crowd.

The wind returned again, less sharp than before. It was more familiar, more gentle, as if to congratulate me, on my first win, on my first _three-stock_. I felt it even more intimately because I still had my eyelids closed. I heard a woman scream, a group of girls chanting my name rhythmically, and a little boy screeching in delight.

I really couldn’t believe it.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, LITTLE MAC!” I remembered the announcer’s tones, and as I raised my vision again, I realised there was still delighted cheering and excited shrieking.

About four teenage girls not older than sixteen wearing tank tops and spaghetti straps rushed over from the entrance of the stadium - it was over three hundred metres away; they must’ve really been looking hard for me.

They were barely younger than me and yet they were fangirling super hard.

_What?_

I was finally being acknowledged.

“Oh my god I can’t believe I j-just met…” They gasped excitedly. “Thank you so much!” Even though I’d had to let go of Palu, the several minutes of autograph signing made my heart bury itself deeper into its chest.

_This is real, this is real, this IS real._

Not only did I best a literal titan in the sport-

-it was in my final round, when I needed it the most-

-but my first ever win in _Ultimate_ was also a three-stock.

Total, absolute domination.

“No problemo, girls! Have a good day!”

They all laughed, waving, before walking off excitedly.

When they were gone from sight, I stared down, looking at the miniscule grooves in the park path. It was like my eyesight had gone to shit; like the distances had closed between my face and the ground, and my thumb was the size of a mountain. The feeling could be described as me not feeling fully _present_ \- like I was hallucinating in my own body, barely feeling and experiencing reality in and of itself.

My bones shook and rattled again.

“Palu, I love it when you do that, god damn,” I murmured, shaking my head, still leaking a little.

“That’s why I do it, Mac,” she giggled.

She came closer, whispering in my ear. It tickled.

“I always knew you would succeed, but now that you’ve finally done it… I’m even more proud.”

It was late morning, with the hot Smash City sun _bearing down_ on us. Normally, I would’ve felt self-conscious or something about the sweat coming off me… but for some reason I really couldn’t care less about it.

“...Mac? Are you alright?”

“I feel the best I’ve ever felt, man… O- damn, wait a sec, you were asking me a question?”

She smirked. “Do you realise something?”

“Yeah?” She was so soft it was driving me crazy.

“This is the same area we came to a few Sundays ago.”

“A… what?”

“After our ‘reunion dinner’.”

The heat of the restaurant burned into my head. Seeing that strangely mesmerising dark-haired woman, and her family, and realising it was my own; then, the dinner, the food, the banter; the intense layering of my body - the skin like the jubilant, elated emotion I felt talking to ‘the boys’ again, and the inside the feeling of existential depression not being able to confirm my presence with them… The park, the park - it all came flooding back to me. It wasn’t that long ago, but _damn_ it might as well have been a few months or even half a year back.

“I… I remember, Palu.” My muscles were beginning to tire, so I backed away from Palu.

“As do I.”

Instead, I leaned my elbow against the lamppost.

“This… this is the exact, exact same spot, Palu.”

“That’s why I said what I said,” she winked. I shoved her shoulder gently, evoking a little laugh on her end.

“I recall being a depressed sack on that day… y’know, about the fact that this entire experience was likely temporary, especially, I mean, given the sheer amount I’d been losing. And, y’know, in a couple o’ days this entire ordeal about getting in and all that is, uh… well, it’s gonna be over.”

“It is, Mac.”

“It feels like both a year and only a few days at the same time, y’know?”

“I understand, Mac. It feels the same way for me, too.”

A silence settled between us, as still and as calming as the atmosphere of the park. No one was around - it was almost eleven o’clock and sweltering hot - why would anyone be out here of all places on a weekday morning?

I looked up. So did she.

I couldn’t help but laugh - it was the exact same way I glanced up for the first time and saw how beautiful she was. I recalled it to be here, because the moment was so stark.

“You’ve done all that you can do, Mac.” Palu smiled, serene.

“Five rounds… what point total does that, er, actually put me on?”

“Now, that’s not important, Mac.” She rested a hand on my shoulder.

“I do know that your recent win puts you up a fair amount, though. But why are you worried? You’ve done all you can - just wait for the results to come out.” For suspense’s sake, the tournament organisers had cut off all centralised information with respect to standings for Round Five. In all honesty, that was probably a good thing for me - I had the tendency to compulsively check my phone for updates on the point totals and standings.

“Regardless… it should be enough, Mac; it should be enough.”

I stared at her for a second, before deciding she was probably lying.

“Well… shit. You’re right.

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t… I don’t wanna ruminate on it, even if I do actually end up below the cutoff… because simply put, I just wanna enjoy these last few moments.

“And… I wanna celebrate this hell of a win. So yeah.”

She frowned momentarily, before smiling as bright as the sun itself, seemingly satisfied with the answer as a whole.

Palu grabbed my hand, swinging it wildly, as we skipped back to the stadium together.

“Dinner at Falc’s?”

“Dinner at Falc’s!”

“We haven’t even asked him to make food yet, god damn.”

“Oh well! We’ll make him.”

“You can be a real bitch sometimes, y’know that?”

Palu giggled and punched me in the arm.

“Ow, god-damnit, Palu! Were ya watching the game at all? I just got shoulder-smacked by a reptile the weight of three and a half eighteen-wheelers!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mac!”

She looked so cutely concerned, the way she frantically turned around. _Bless your heart girl._

“Ah, I’ll be fine, Palu.” I ruffled her hair as we walked.

In reality, it didn’t really hurt at all, but I was kinda milking it. I didn’t really want to take it too far though - she was joking; I coulda easily made the same mistake as her, to her.

“I’m looking forward to this today, Palu. It’s gunna be a blast; I honestly cannot wait ‘till your match - I really, _really_ want to see what you can do against Samus.”

“I’m excited too. Who are you rooting for?” Her gaze turned curious.

“You, of course; I mean, I’m alright friends with her, too, but I mean we’re like best buds, Palu; that doesn’t matter. I want y’all both to try your best is the thing, but of course, _of course_ I want you to win.”

“Thanks, Mac.” Her smile was a little less of the same all-knowing one she always pulled. It was… hard to describe, but if I had to put it, it’d be the humble, quiet smile a happy young girl who just got praise or heard the comment they thought they deserved but never before had received.

“I know you’ll be fine, Palu. I’d put my life in your hands, girl; a match is nothing for you. I’ve got nothing but faith you’ll pull through; you’re my gal.” I put my arm around her, grabbing her shoulder tightly to pull her in closer to me. The forearms were so cooked, but I still wanted to feel her warmth.

No laugh as normal. So I turned, worried, and saw the look of pure joy on her face. 

  
  


• • • • •

  
  


“Sorry I didn’t make it to your match, man; I was asleep.”

I shook my head, smiling as I dropped my elbow lightly on his spiny head. “It’s arright, Sonic. I get it.”

Falc’s dinner table was complete with steaming, delicious food - cream potatoes, roast chicken, sliced beef, fresh avocado salad; and he’d even stepped out of his usual cooking for fried rice. Dinner at Falcon’s was the only time Jane would ever eat anything remotely rich, fattening or buttery; simply put the way he prepared food was stellar.

On one hand, it was homely - his food wasn’t pretentious or expensive-looking, it was fairly simple; and on the other, the taste of his dishes was always, always delicate. I’d sometimes wolf it down. Other times, I’d take a small cube of potato or something and feel its texture in my mouth along with the satiating, satisfying, deep flavour of the fat in the mayonnaise accompanying it. Either way, I was enjoying it for everything it was worth.

Falcon lived in a fairly remote place. Not that it was the countryside or anything, but it was far away from everyone else and the central business district; it was in a small suburban town about ten minutes walk from a subway station in the centre-west of Smashville.

The area was… quaint. Brick houses, concrete houses, small butcher and market shops instead of one of those massive supermarket chain branches. Upper-middle class with the roads not too busy, but not too quiet either.

Falc was always bombarded with young screeching fans and people wanting a picture or an autograph especially in his home world; and even with the helmet and sunglasses, god knows which desperate paparazzo or crazed fourteen-year-old girl would try to follow him home or whatever. So maybe he lived like this over there, a quiet, peaceful town or suburb where the local people knew the man under the mask and would respect his privacy.

_In fact, that’s probably why he lives like this here, huh._

“A toast t’ ouh’r champ o’ the day, Mac Li’l!” Falc’s voice boomed. _Think of the devil, heh._ Pit and Jane clapped, shit-eating grins wide. Some claps around the table.

“And to our future champion for tonight, the lovely ‘Lady Palutena.’” I elbowed her in the side, a smile rising on her face.

I raised my glass, clinking it against the others’. Seven other glasses, to be specific. One of them wasn’t a wine glass, but just a regular clear glass cup.

Incineroar’s.

After coming to the gym with Jane and I the other day, she decided to bring Incineroar along to the dinner - the newcomer hadn’t found any niche he really fit in, or many friends. A lot of the other fighters from his world were fairly under the radar, being quiet types themselves. As a result, the wrestler’s onstage persona made him somewhat unwelcome in the circle.

The cat was really nothing like he appeared onstage - he was much less haughty or boastful, and was considerably more reserved. Yet, he maintained that same curiosity in the things around him, as if it were all foreign and alien to him.

I looked up, and watched him fiddle with a gear in R.O.B.’s back.

“The cat likes ‘e new look, eh?” Falc said, gesturing to the modified, shining red steel shoulder-pieces he’d fitted R.O.B. with. The metal looked somewhat thicker with rounding, likely providing greater protection against attacks.

“‘Roar.” He scratched at the metal gently, then strangely sniffed his claw. R.O.B. nervously shied away from him, his eyes turning their semi-circular shape outwards.

“Oi!”

“Hrm?” Incin was more-or-less oblivious to Falc’s irritation or R.O.B.’s angst, continuing to poke at the steel. While R.O.B. acclimatised to the new treatment, the cat slipped a singular claw in between the arm and shoulder joints. The robot jumped back in shock.

I shared a look with Sonic, who was laughing his ass off right across from me.

I’d raised an eyebrow, closed the opposite eye and raised half my lip to form an abomination of an expression - the energy it conveyed I thought was probably somewhere between flaccidity and lukewarm amazement.

“What a strange, strange… guy? Cat?” Sonic said in between mouthfuls, having denied the fragrant potatoes and salads Falcon went through the effort of cooking. Instead, he chowed down on a lone chili dog.

“I mean, yeah. I’ll have you know that, er, I struggled with the exact same thing when I first met him.”

He snorted. “Huh. Good that he’s making friends, though.” 

“Yeah, and y’know what? I reckon it’s time for us to expand our circle of friends, too - y’know, the more the merrier.” I sipped some lemon water, the slight tang of the acid freshly biting my mouth.

“You mentioned the twin-people fighters thingoes?”

“Hm, yeah. Don’t know much about them - think they’re from the same universe as all those strange blue-haired sword fighters.”

“Ugh. They’re all pretty stiff from what I’ve heard.”

“Oh, well - give them a chance. Hell, who knows - they could be cool.”

“Hm.”

“Regardless… They’re coming to my apartment soon - I mean, no reason to think they’d come anytime until after the prelims, so, uh, give or take five-ish days; and if they’re chill, we got two more bros to hang out with. Well, one guy and one ga-”

Sonic’s large belch cut through whatever conversation was going around the room. The animal man-child had somehow already finished the entire goddamn thing, despite its length, within one-and-a-half minutes of talk.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Palu’s dead look across the table and the lull of silence summarised the situation pretty accurately.

Despite the strange, all-over-the-place and explosive start to the dinner, the rest of it went by fairly uneventfully. Jane and I talked briefly about her (little) progress with Rupert. The first few training sessions were obviously the most effective, given the law of diminishing returns, and he’d improved decently well especially as a beginner to the sport.

Otherwise, whenever I wasn’t talking to anyone in particular, I was just enjoying, savouring the entire feeling of gentle, sweet satisfaction. Not a glazed donut pumped with several tablespoons of sucrose, but perhaps the slight sinking of the sugar from a ripe kiwifruit. The freshness of the shower beforehand, the cool air of the room, and the tiredness in my bones and joints and muscles all coalesced to form a heavy pile of Little Mac; I’d done all I could do. And now, I just had to wait.

In some sense, it was almost disappointing when the dinner concluded - we’d normally stick around for a bit, but now I actually had to _move_ \- it was time for Palu’s match.

“Arright, crew, I’ma wash up today with Robby boy; y’all go on ahead.” It took me a second to remember that R.O.B. had been waterproofed right before the _Ultimate_ prelims.

“Why don’t you just leave it, Falc?”

“Y’all are later ‘n the round, right? I’ll make ‘t in time, dun worry.”

“Ah, alright. Gotcha, man.” I brought Falc in for a hug.

He clapped me once, twice on the back hard; his squeeze was as tight and as hard as the man was himself.

“I’ma see y’all later.”

Something vibrated. I checked my front pocket for my phone, but it was unmoving.

Falc grabbed his own, and put it to his ear.

“I’ll hafta take this,” he mouthed, and even behind the sunglasses, I could make out the outline of his eye winking as he retreated indoors again.

As I stepped outside in the mild drizzle, I remembered coming in for the first time. The first thing I saw in my mind’s eye was the white wooden bannister of the stairwell that started right in front of the opening corridor. Further in front, the table for eight sat in the grand dining area even though Falc pretty much lived alone bar R.O.B.. And last, the extraordinary kitchen in the backmost corner of the first floor - with a multitude of simple yet high-quality cooking apparatus.. But the heart of Douglass Jay Falcon’s home was something so much more modest compared to every of the other places in his home.

The slightly cracked floral sofa which hung, sagged slightly in the middle, designed for three; then the two rocking, creaking armchairs on either side of it; and in the middle, an oval carpet with soft fur; all of which faced the centrepiece of the area - the smoky wooden fireplace. Very few homes had these anymore; and I wasn’t even sure I’d ever been in another house before which had a fireplace - the only time I’d ever seen them was in photos. The warmth that radiated and grew on my skin, and the chatter of the people around me - or perhaps even the silence… the spacious areas around were nice, too, but this was it for me. Sitting down, knees bundled up and arms hugging around the shins listening to Falc tell us a story about his childhood, or his younger days; Pit hissing in my ear because he didn’t understand something that was being said; or, me doing the same due to my horrid hearing, and everything else.

Since the beginning of the tour, I’d been there three times, including just then. Three - an iconic number. Would the third be the last?

I hadn’t been thinking too much about it, though. Thankfully…

Thankfully, tonight, I’d just enjoyed the spectacle.

The spectacle? Maybe that wasn’t the word I was searching for… but it was such a whole and complete scene that it wouldn’t do it justice to just call it that, a scene. The homeliness of Falc’s house, a place that we’d enjoyed so many damn times, a recurring motif in our lives as people; that peaceful, satisfied feeling I enjoyed; the aroma wafting from food uneaten and the rich, jumping flavours that rocketed, starred out in different directions in the mouth from food currently consumed; and the company.

Oh, the company, the company. Hearing the chatter of Sonic and Pit - the former often had friction with the other members of the group, but not so much with the latter because of his lax and easygoing nature; the girls gossiping, talking excitedly amongst themselves - both so bubbly and energetic; Falc fathering his greatest creation and the newcomer just being himself.

_Family._

I looked up as the rain subsided.

_Maybe only for a while - you know how the weather gets over here._

Maybe… only for a while.

Only for a while, huh.

  
• • • • •

_[ - Pit - ]_

  
  


“You arright, Pithead?”

“Uh, yeah, Mac, I’m fine.”

Something wasn’t right.

It was as soon as I stepped outside. I didn’t know what they called it - it was a word sorta like instinct, but not really. I tried searching for the word - it began with an ‘i’, I’m sure…

 _Intuition._ That was it - something… intuitively, was not right.

I scratched the tip of my scalp. It was a little too hard, and there was a pang of pain that pooled around it.

Cap’n and R.O.B. decided to stay back and tidy up; Sonic wasn’t bothered to walk with us and could reach the stadium later on his own, leaving only Mac, Jane, Lady Palutena and the new dude Incineroar. Maybe it was because he was sorta new, or ‘foreign’, that I was a little on guard around him - yet, Mac’d told me to relax and things would be fine.

I couldn’t help but be happy for Mac. So much stress and pressure and things, and he’d come out on top. He’d won by a pretty big amount earlier in his final match - everyone was going wild for him, and the look of happiness on his face made me smile, too.

“We should probably move faster; we don’t wanna miss this next bus.”

“Can’t you just call a SmashCab or something?”

I felt like an idiot.

Maybe it was because we hadn’t been out at night, at least, in such a quiet area that often. The only other time was right after Mac versus Ganondorf… I remembered the burning anxious feeling in my belly. When I left Lady Palutena in the dark stadium alone, I felt so, so nervous for her. There was no danger there. Mac was injured, but okay.

_There was no danger before… there shouldn’t be any tonight, Pit._

I tapped on the phone screen. Under the streetlight my fingertip sparkled suddenly in sweat. It wasn’t even hot; in realising that I felt a light breeze blow through my shirt, ruffling the feathers of the wings in the back. The combination of the wet heat inside and the dry cold outside was unpleasant and I sorta hated it.

“Pit?”

“Lady Palutena?”

“You’re sweating hard, are you alright?” She gave me the same look as a few mornings back after the nightmare, and then again like yesterday, and I’d been cracking a bit every time. I so wanted to share it with her…

But how could I?

“I’m… uh, tryna book a cab. It’s not working.”

She raised an eyebrow. I watched the opposite side of the street. A couple crossed the road.

“You need help with that?”

“I-uh, I’m okay, Lady Palutena.” The expression on her face was unreadable. “Uh- but, thank you. F-for asking, that is.”

I quickly flicked my eyes back, afraid of what I would see if I glanced at her face. The screen was still loading; there was a circle being formed and reformed again with a green arc swirling and ahh, it just was taking so long. A bar at the top dropped.

The green arc swirled again and did one more loop.

“Let’s start walking - if we don’t get one by then, the bus is our best bet,” Mac chimed in.

Two, three.

Four, five, six more loops. It’d been at least three minutes.

“Mac, can you try on yours?”

He grabbed his phone, swiping the password on his front screen. He screwed it up once, twice, three times. A singular woman quickly walked, somewhat in a hurry, right past him.

It was like thirty seconds until he replied, “out of data, dude, sorry.”

I shook my head and gritted my teeth. 

“Jane?”

“Don’t have the app. I’m sorry, Pit.”

My anxiety was off the charts.

 _Focus Pit focus._ _There’s nothing to suggest danger - just be on alert._

I instinctively scratched my head again.

It was in the exact same spot and the pain shot through like before. I gritted my teeth, not letting it show. It hurt, real, real bad; the spot already felt tender from before. My heart beat a little bit faster from the shock of it happening again, a second time. I should’ve learned.

I closed my eyes, biting my lip, trying to focus to delete the pain. My heart thudded. It was working for a bit until someone screamed; someone screamed and I thought it was someone screaming for me for my pain. 

It was Jane that screamed.

I whirl around. My eyes are open.

It isn’t my heart that thudded.

Lady Palutena is on the ground. Her eyes are closed.

Incineroar hurriedly moves and touches her. He looks concerned.

Jane has a scared look on her face, as though she doesn’t know what to do. She’s shouting words.

I don’t know what just happened.

She’s out.

Mac yells out and runs, in front of me. Something black shoots out a few metres away.

The streetlight fires light into my eye.

“This way,” Mac shouts.

I glance back quickly. Jane is on her, pressing her chest frantically. The cat supports her head.

The ground is wet and I almost slip because my right foot overextends.

I look forward; it has been raining.

I barely catch up to Mac. _Lady Palutena…?_

The black thing dashes into an alley. Mac follows him, right on his tail. It is a black-hooded man.

_He’s a threat..!_

I’m into the alleyway, just behind him.

“-oly fucking shit!” Mac almost slides too. The ground is slick.

A black garbage bag, a paper plate, a plastic fork. Then a fork in the path.

Mac pauses, panicking, eyes darting.

“Y-you, uh, go there!” He skids left.

My heart stops dead. I turn right, and run.

As I go through the alleyway I feel the wet brick on my hands. Pipes I duck under. Pitter patter of puddles.

He’s there, I see him, glimpses of black blur here. And there.

And here.

And there.

My heart burns. Not pain, just anger.

Fury.

Blood rushes. I run, I run; I made a promise to her I would run.

I will catch him.

Mac’s caught back up.

I run, and I run.

I run.

I run, and I run.

And I sprint.

I sprint, and suddenly there’s a fence. An iron fence.

He’s past it. I see him trying to escape me because he fears.

I grab the iron fence. It’s like I am tearing it down. I grab the top and pull down, and I shoot up. Cramp in my back that suddenly reverts to normal.

My foot slides against the back of the fence-top. I slip over.

The world spins and I’m on my back. The wind is knocked out of me and I can’t breathe.

I get up. I stumble.

I made a promise to her I would run.

I run. I run. Mac yells again from behind.

He turns left.

Even though everything hurts I can still run. I can still fulfill a promise.

He skids on the wet floor. His shifty, beady eyes look at me, scared.

I’m closing in on him, I am. There’s less distance.

He turns for good.

I turn in left too.

He slips and falls.

He presses his back against the wall. Not a dead end. Might as well be for him.

I know I would catch him if he turned now. We’re simply too close.

He’s wearing a black mask. I can’t make out his face.

It’s too dark.

I leap forward at him.

A glint.

Light reflects off the cold steel.

It’s a knife. There’s blood on it.

I don’t want to get bitten.

I turn and evade it quick, grabbing it; I hold his thumb tightly tightly and it gives away, right as I twist it against his fingers, he loses grip, now in the rain; it’s in my left, he brings up his head, I whip my head back quickly a little late, slapping it right up into him, he reels back, red blood trickling from his nose; and I have it now;

I feel blood and I keep striking and hitting and throwing and the metal feels stone cold in my hand as I bring it down and drop it on accident but it doesn’t matter and my vision is blurring and turning all black and a bone in my back has a singular crack from the fall and thunder and lightning in the back, and scream and a yell from hell he fell I stomp and stamp my feet down in the ground, red flashes before my eyes, I let loose until I feel my muscles start to ache and I hear another man scream, he’s younger, he’s gentle, he’s familiar, he’s a brother, and I feel him around me and this is not what brothers are for - I fight him as the rain pours and it is slippery, and kick and punch and throw my hand and he struggles to try and stop me in the wet and he speaks gentle, familiar words, I push him off me as my back is drenched, and another one comes behind me and hugs me tight and he’s warm despite how cold it is; the familiar one the first comes in front and brings me backward away from him, and out of the corner of my eye I see him move and get up and start to go, and I try to say something and I try to speak but it comes out as if I was not speaking at all and I cannot say words, I cannot say words and I try to point but my arm is down and held there, and then I see him stagger, walk, run and my eyes close with the wet of tears or maybe it is rain, and

I let them take me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's a wrap on Vo18!
> 
> So some of the behind the scenes stuff - from now until ~Jan-ish, I'll try to post more often than 1/week because the last chapter hits wise was strangely my worst performing; tell me if you have any suggestions. Also please, please, please share this with anyone who likes an emotional and long story (this style of relatively low action and high amounts of introspection might not be for everyone - but I've shared this with some friends who don't play Smash and they've liked it so far, so yeah!) This way, we can get one step closer to making an AHJ community!
> 
> For more on the AHJ community - please do join the DCord - aPVzn9X . I'm going to post official story art on there (I promise it will be good - I've spent a good 10-15 hours on the art so far bahahaha) sometime before January 2021 ends! I also don't mind sharing anything to do with the process of building the story, and whatnot - just please hop into the community!
> 
> Thanks gang. 19 and 20 are gonna be bangers.
> 
> EDIT (12/12/2020):  
> Hey all. This is D4 here.
> 
> Unfortunately due to some unforeseen circumstances I've got to postpone Vo19 till next week (Sat 19th, or Fri 18th depending where you're reading) - I'm fine, don't worry; but I want to give the characters and plot the time they deserve so 19 and 20 can be the best they can be. I've had a bit of writer's block and seeing as I've been doing 5.5k words or other every week it's been pretty hard to have backup buffer chapters.
> 
> DW, I'll be back soon :)


	19. Standalone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the 1-week hiatus. I was lost for inspiration and everything... but I've gotten this to you as best I can. 20 is already done, but I need to make some edits to it. I've put the 2 others in 20.
> 
> 19 is super short, because I actually wrote 3 scenes for it initially... but only 1 really worked after the fact. So here we are.
> 
> Looking forward to it! Act I is 1 away from finishing!!!

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

  
  


**Volume 19: Standalone**

  
  


_[ - Little Mac - ]_

  
  


_ Thursday 20th August 2076, minutes after dawn _

I sat listlessly - my mind was a wash.

I couldn’t even think straight - and that was the sorta semi-conscious side of me coming out. There were two parts of me; the one who couldn’t believe anything was real, and the other that was constantly trying to cement these events as fact.

_No, what the…?_

The smell of sickly air of the hospital and the shivering cold of the bitter blowy windy air conditioning only hammered the point home. More.

Jane barely looked human.

_Someone had come in the middle of the night._

I knew I would be sympathetic to her… 

_They knocked Palu out cold with the handle of a knife to the temple._

If I hadn’t run out of sympathy.

One of my idols growing up was this boxer… I remembered his name. Mr. Dream, or something; he had ginger hair and he was super tall, yet fast. The man always hit really, really hard; he was the best - he’d won so many world championships. I was like six or seven at the time, and it looked like that was gonna stay the same for another year, at least once, facing off against this guy he’d always beat.

Although Dream’s opponent was easily frustrated and less agile than he, he was still stronger than Dream himself. It was their third time fighting for the title, and Dream had won every single time. So the other guy… the other guy pretty much had had enough.

Dream was off his game that day. He’d looked so out of it the entire time - regardless I cheered nonetheless for him, albeit a little more worriedly, a little more desperately.

“Go, Dream, c’mon! Beat him up!” It was like he heard me, as he reacted to another punch, dodging the advance perfectly and lining up for a counterattack. The match was in a standstill, both of them circling each other. I grabbed myself; nails biting into my thigh, almost straight through the PJs.

His opponent’s fist shot out to the left side of Dream. Dream was forced to dodge, and in that second, the announcer screamed in my ear, louder than normal. My eyes shot wide, wide open, somehow bigger than before.

Down he went in the blink of an eye, from six feet three straight to the ground; the referee was on the other guy and people were screaming in the crowd - it wasn’t excitement any more, but terror. I rushed up to the screen, seeing a close up of Dream’s face.

There was no blood; there were some bruises, but the main thing…

What I remembered was just, the whites of his eyes were showing.

My first near-death experience was pulling the TV backwards off the table, narrowly avoiding decapitation.

In the hospital, I flickered through the channels at literal light-speed, trying to find some news on the situation. What had happened? My heart pounded in my chest, fearing the very worst.

_Channel sixteen, seventeen, eighteen - ah-OH._

Some bespectacled man read some gibberish out from a page. There was a courtroom, a judge, the wood of a gavel.

_“Champion boxer Julius Jackson, a.k.a. Mr. Dream, paralysed in his third world tournament.”_

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

It was worse when the camera panned around to the back of the courtroom. The once-proud man was seated in a wheelchair. His opponent was in handcuffs.

Dream’s adversary had faked that punch, and subsequently slammed his other fist into the side of Dream’s neck; a rabbit punch. A move banned and was even _illegalised_ for its danger; the force of a boxer’s right hook directed to the base of the brain stem could sever it completely and cause paralysis… or brain death.

His glassy eyes were all I could see; and then I saw the scene again. The spot right behind the end of her jaw and the impact; how she went down...

_A few inches… and that coulda been it._

_She’s barely two and a half mortals in this world._

I stroked Jane’s back idly, her posture leaned forward with her face buried in her hands.

_And worse… we have no idea who this guy is or where he is._

Up. Down. I’d probably been doing it about a minute.

_Pit beat him within an inch of his life._

Up. Down. Jane didn’t respond.

 _Falcon has had to file a goddamn police report._ _In what world…?_

I shook my head. I’d reiterated this shit about thirteen thousand times. I felt horrible. I’d been up since… Wednesday morning, for god’s sake, and I’d been trying as hard as was humanly possible to block out those thoughts.

She could have ended up the same way as Dream did. I knew these things; Doc always told of the dangerous places to never hit someone; this, this was one of them.

If she died…

Nothing would ever be the same again. I’d be lost. I’d cry; I really loved her so much - not in just the romantic sense… But she was a big, big piece in my puzzle. She was a lot - a lot - of who I was.

The hours at midnight had made me feel as though I was floating. A frigid shiver coursed through my body and frazzled every bone, every inch of skin every time the thought passed through like a running loop; anxiety that constantly ran electric and the stakes, the stakes were so high.

I felt guilty. All this bullshit nonsense about ‘not being in Smash _Ultimate_ ’ or whatever and boo-hoo and crying and whatever and now, just a few hours ago there was still the highly possible outcome one of my closest partners in this short life of mine would be in a coma, paralysed or dead just from that one goddamn strike. Not logical - yeah, sure, but I still felt that anyways.

I hadn’t slept. I _couldn’t_ sleep.

I walked up and went to the toilet across the hospital corridor. Absently in the back of my sick head I heard my feet clap against the ground lightly. Someone, likely a nurse or doctor or patient or whoever, exclaimed some hot nonsense in the background about insulin prices.

Jane had made no movement. _Huh._

The door opened. Feet at the toilet. I let myself go. It didn’t, and didn’t for a while.

I was pretty much just standing there, limp and trying to piss, while thinking about all the things that could’ve happened but didn’t.

_I stopped him._

I’d stopped Pit. Memory coursed through my brain, and I damn near stumbled backwards. It was guilt, it was guilt.

_And he got away as a result…_

I’d panicked.

I’d really, really fucked up.

I was thinking about the legal side. Pit was so hot, so boiling angry that he almost killed the bastard in his fiery rage. And who wouldn’t have? The amount of pressure that must’ve weighed on his mind… gahh, imagining what he went and was going through… Pit losing control and his completely inhuman strikes, hearing the man’s screams and cries and continuing to hit him, face, kidney, liver, solar plexus. I saw Pit stomp directly on the guy’s stomach, and the horrible burp-retch the man cried and the blood that shot out from his mouth, that was shining black in the night.

Rain splashed down, water drizzled onto the fluid and it dissipated everywhere. The two thickest knuckles on Pit’s right fist smacking damn clean into the guy’s underarm. I felt the electric sizzle of the pain, even feeling for the wretched piece of human scum that would try to fuck with my family. His sandal pressed hard into the guy’s face, and as he screamed into the under of the shoe, his skull slammed into the goddamn hard brick. And then when I looked up, averting my gaze from any more of it, I saw his face.

As he turned, I saw the most gentle guy I knew had morphed into a monster who would’ve murdered another in a tortured, pained glee that was sadistic and malicious and wanting to deal nothing but harm and cause nothing but damage, yet masochistic in the purpose and intent.

I saw his face, oh, Pit’s face - it was not human.

His laughter, him smiling languidly, all the things about my best friend I loved, and that person I saw that night…

Pit’s face was a fucking _mask_ of horror, betraying no emotion as though a cord had snapped for good and he’d completely become someone he’d never known before in his entire life; he was robotic.

Our eyes locked for a second. Tears rushed to my eyes and I almost vomited the previous day’s dinner into the bowl.

I spat out saliva, trying to control the gag reflex. 

_Rational, Mac, rational._

I remembered thinking that if Pit killed the guy, he’d damn well be in big trouble. And it wasn’t unlikely. Fighters had been killed in the ring before with gloves on; without gloves and the emotion of vengeance, death would’ve been a shit ton more possible. But then… 

_I-I don’t know why I didn’t chase the guy down myself, and hold him..?_

It was as though a balloon of slow, dreadful guilt burst and splattered darkly against an old, cracked and greying wall.

_What if… what if he died in my grasp or whatever… or pulled a knife, or a gun, or something; of the legal consequences holding a guy like that, what if Pit got arrested and detained or whatever, uhh, w-_

The black poison trickled threateningly down the concrete back, its adherence curling into a sinister grin.

I’d lost the killer instinct. I’d _fucking_ faltered. Much, much unlike Pit, who’d just lost himself… I held back; I was scared, of I didn’t even know what, goddamnit; I didn’t have the commitment of just going for it, because I damn well should have. A dangerous man was now on the streets with an agenda against us. He was still alive.

_I’m not a man._

One of the strands that’d been running along the wall finally reached the juncture that connected it and the ground.

I knew I was right. It wasn’t just that now - gahh, it’d take _longer_ to find him.

It oozed, toxic, seeping into my toes, the acid biting away at my flesh. It was as though there was more of it the less of me there was - the initial trickle expanded to a larger volume, eroding at the bone from the feet up, melting both my legs entirely, and then my arms, stomach, chest, head and my face until I was dead.

I made a promise to myself I would do anything to protect these people.

And I wasn’t good enough to protect her.

My eyes glazed over fully. It was the most emasculating thing I’d ever experienced, I thought. I held the toilet with both hands - it was goddamn filthy, and I thought I got on my knees, because they were aching and the kneecap was about to break out of the sheer weight of my body. My consciousness was all concentrated into that one point.

And then, the world seemed to pass by in hours. I cried.

I stared into the abyss of closed eyelids, trembling and shaking as I breathed in big, huge sobs. Occasionally, the cold from the vents would sweep by as if to check on me - indifferent, impassive - the dried tears on my cheeks stinging.

I’d been on an emotional rollercoaster these few weeks; I’d felt emotion deep enough to make me tear up, nostalgia waves hitting me like they’d hit Japan, or deep pangs of worry, or excited love; but this time, though, my heart shattered.

I’d never before felt this weak as I did now, and I’d never felt so inadequate before in my life, so dishonoured, so deserving of every evil in the world. A sheltered nineteen-year-old who really didn’t have any strengths to boast of, no real obstacles in his way. And I hated, I hated the fact that I was pissing myself over this. I just needed to be better, but I couldn’t tell myself 

I sobbed loudly, hoping only strangers would bother to notice; and if they did, that they wouldn’t remember.

I’ll never tell them about this.

_They’ll never know about this._


	20. Dawnfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac's tale has been a struggle from the start for one reason and one reason only... One big reason.
> 
> Is he going to be good enough to stay in Smash?  
> Or is he going to be forced to leave, and return to the land he hoped he'd never have to see again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I post, I want to take the time out to say some thanks to some users here.
> 
> \- To krisetchers; my very first reviewer, and someone who has this insane attention to detail that I appreciate so much. Sorry if I pissed ya off or something and I hope you'll come back again :) Thanks so much for being my first supporter.  
> \- To Horace; thanks for carrying this story through the later chapters so far. Everytime you comment, it's a reminder of why I do this; why I open the portal to this new world that deserves to be discovered. Much love brother.  
> \- To quodack_orange: your comment made my week.
> 
> \- And to everyone else who reviewed, or followed, or left a kudos. I read all these things, I hear you, and I hope you'll continue watching Mac's progression. Love you all.
> 
> I think that's enough for the beginning notes, coz this chapter's already 9k. Enjoy :)

**Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

**Volume 20: Dawnfall**

* * *

_The First Half: Starry, Starry Night_

_[ - Ray - ]_

_Wednesday 19th August 2076, 20:47_

_The night of the crime._

I ran. I limped, more bloody like it, coz it felt like a fuse blew in my knee. There was adrenaline pumping through me even through the injuries. And everything hurt. It was dark to boot - I couldn’t see even one bloody foot in front of me.

It would’ve been bad with two solid eyes, but the bloody bastard… he beat me, as loath as I was to even have thunk it. He beat me to a pulp and I could barely see out the right it was so damn swollen.

I wasn’t scared, though. No I bloody wasn’t.

My heart beat fast. That was all I heard.

With every heartbeat, my jaw bulged in pain. Somethin’ was wet and sticky in my mouth. I figured it was blood, but even then I couldn’t bear to swallow it coz that was painful too.

I gulped it down anyways. My throat burned..

A bush rustled. _UH-OH_. Panic struck - I quickly twisted, shouting. My foot dropped forward.

I was falling over. The floor rushed into it; something snapped in my ankle.

It was the bloody most painful thing in the goddamned world.

“AW, SHIT!”

I stumbled over. My knee was already a goner, and it smacked straight into the ground again. It was like a gigantic metal hammer smacked into it full force, no holds barred or nothin’.

The ankle, the left ankle was a zillion times worse.

Numbness wore off. I clutched my foot, trying to elevate it like they said to do, but it’d be-been _crunched_ by a trash compactor.

Each movement hurt more than the next. Blinking was painful like a wanker bee had decided to plop its fat arse right down into my eye.

“Fucking wanker...”

Right over my shout, a female voice shouted back. She sounded familiar. It was distant.

_Oh shit, oh shit..._

I prayed, silently, as the ligaments and the tiny bones burned like an oven, to the dear Lord up in heaven, that I’d come to the right place.

Some more people began to call out, their voices getting louder. A light flickered on.

A squirrel jumped out from behind the tree, scurrying away.

_Little bastard._

I stared up at the source of the light. It came from an upstairs window - no, no; _the_ window.

It was the godforsaken warehouse.

_Thank the Lord._

The voices got louder. The first female one… how I didn’t recognise it in the heat of the moment, even I didn’t bloody get. She rushed over to my side.

“Ray, love, we’ve got to go now, you’re bleeding badly.” Clair’s voice was urgent… but it was calming and clear.

“Shit, awh - I can’t move my leg; it hurts a bloody lot, - oh, shit!” I strained the last word a little, coz it barely bloody came out.

“Breathe, Ray, slow it down.” She turned back to the crowd. “We need a stretcher!”

It felt like my foot was bloody eating itself from the inside outwards.

“The operation… I fucked it; it went tits-up, Clair, I-”

She put a finger to my lip.

“Not now. What matters is that you’re alive.”

My last sight of her was her winking, before the lads came around.

“Ray, we’re going to lift you onto the stretch, yeah?” Tim’s reassuring face came right ‘round into view.

I nodded, biting my bloody lip. “I’m ready.”

Cal flashed a grin and thumbs up. “One… Two… Three!” My lip protested in pain as I bit down harder than ever before. They lifted me without any ankle support, so the bloody thing flopped down lifelessly like a sad old sod’s fucking wet-fish boner.

I grimaced. “I can barely carry you, you fat bastard, Ray.” From behind him and his lean frame, I could see Cal’s smirk.

“Maybe you should put on a we-” I coughed, “bit of bloody muscle sometime, ya dumb wanker.” Goddamn, the pain was getting worse.

Tim pulled up the rear, shaking his head. “Stop bickering, you two.”

I lay there, the shakes of the hill rattling my ankle with each step they took, especially coz it wasn’t nowhere close to being flat, much unlike Clair.

Despite everything, thinking about how knackered my roundabout brain must’ve been to have conjured that out of thin air made me cackle a wee bit. I shook, and the ankle pulsed like it was on fire from hell or somethin’ like that.

“You right there Ray? You bloody almost rolled off the damn stretch pissin’ yeself laughin’.”

I tried to stop coz it wasn’t like the rest of my body was any better. The cheek, the right arm was bad too, and the ribs throbbed like a bitch out of this world.

“Nothin’, Big Cal.” He just grunted, stick thin arms tremblin’ under the weight.

The bloody white light got brighter, overpowering my eyes. I closed the bastards. And when that wasn’t enough, I brought an arm up, conscious of the bruising to not go too fast. 

As we slowed down, or at least I felt it, finally getting to bloody safety, I couldn’t help but start to feel energy leak out o’ me like that same, sad old sod’s cock when he finishes. I was knackered not just from the run, but maybe coz of the pain, like it was numbing my brain or something.

“Right-o, time to get this fat-arse onto the table.” Some of the other boys came right ‘round.

“Get ‘is shirt off,” one of them called.

“Oi, better watch where you’re puttin’ your hands, mate,” I replied.

“Got it.” The boy’s face lit up triumphantly as he swung the tee around in the air.

Suddenly, Cal’s face popped into view.

He stared straight at something, and the more I looked, the more I thunk he was staring at me. In the night… and with my dark skin, there was no way Cal would’ve even seen the blood before.

It was like he’d… finally _seen_ the proper extent of the damage.

I-

I actually hadn’t either.

This was one of the only times I’d ever seen concern on the man’s face.

“-Mate…”

I couldn’t even bend my head down to look; it’d hurt so much.

“Cal?”

Another of the lads interrupted. Patrick, his name might’ve been. Cal was slack-jawed, and Tim’s face was grim.

“Ray, I’m not gonna lie; it’s really bad,” his hoarse voice spoke.

“Wha…”

“What even happened, mate?”

“I… I took the girl out, didn’t even waste the damn time to nick nothin’, legged it all the way to this random place, and the winged bastard caught up with me, and you’re a smartarse, you can figure out the rest.”

Pat ignored me, dabbing some antiseptic on the wounds. “How you managed to run over here is a mystery to me, Ray,” the man’s eyes swept over me as he continued rasping. “You’ve got… your entire body is, ‘is dark red; your ribs, especially - and behind, I can see the other guy knew how to fight, coz he kicked you straight in the kidneys, back here.”

He drew a line with his fingers across my back; and I damn near shouted in surprise coz of how bloody painful it was. “Your face… I don’t even want to start about that, because…” I became vaguely aware of some sticky liquid coating my cheek. “He bloody kicked yer arse, Ray.”

“I _know_ ,” I coughed hard. It was wet.

And my bloody foot kept shaking. 

”Someone go get the Doctor, now!” Pat raised his voice. One of the guys rushed, bloody quick, out of the room. My consciousness was getting fuzzy.

_It’ll be fine, you’re one tough lad, Ray; stay awake._

The door burst open right as I thunk it. I’d truly woken up.

The man in the room was not the Doctor… but the Boss. The only man I really could call father.

Or, Martin.

“What in the world is this nonsense?” I’d only heard him so pissed off a few times.

_You’re not scared, you’re not._

“I-I got the hit, sir,” I whispered.

“I _know_ , Raymond. What the hell happened? Ye look like a right mess right now.”

“I botched it; I got caught by that angel, and he-”

“Did ye use the handle of a gun, or blunt object, Raymond, or yer fists?”

“I…” My brain wracked, trying to bloody think about that moment. “I used the hilt of a knife, sir. Didn’t want to leave any, err, dee-enn-”

“Where is it?”

“Where is- what?”

His voice boomed.

“Where’s the knife, Raymond?”

My skin prickled like the hairy arse of a goose, heart jumping around out of place. I felt around myself, my arm protesting. Nothing in my right pocket.

“Ye two, go look for it where you picked ‘is good-for-nothing up.” A pang of confusion hit me.

Martin never… said that about any of us.

“Yes, sir,” Cal nodded. Tim ran off with him.

I strained my good arm, searching in the other pocket. The neck squeezed in on itself. I might’ve shouted, but Martin’s eyes were still straight on me. Yet, he remained at a distance, whispering into the ear of the Doctor. The rest of the lads were frantically searching in the area.

“...no knife…evidence...let ‘im…”

“One...original...sure?”

“..too early...risk…”

“...might have to…”

Overhearing them words sent a shiver down my bloody spine. Martin never used that big booming voice, not in a long time; he never faffed around with whispering neither; he was acting so bizarre, so bloody bonkers - he’d never yelled, or anything, or ever even been panicked.

I was starting to feel the same, with nothing but useless damn cloth on the shorts.

The last shot was the foot. In the shoe? It was so worth a shot, especially given my sight had been bloody halved by that winged bastard.

I curled up, the bloody pain in my ribs hurting so damn much, but peanuts compared… compared to if I didn’t have the knife at all.

I dived straight into the shoe, next to the sock. I wiggled my toes. I rummaged around.

Absolutely nothing.

I saw the boys running down the hill.

The worst for last. The left, shattered foot.

Cal’s face was ghastly.

I tried to squeeze the toes, but they bloody collapsed on me.

Tim’s look was dead serious, even as he damn near skidded down the bloody slippery hill.

I winced in both pain and fear as I felt only the cotton of the sock in the shoe.

They showed their hands, empty, shaking their heads. _No knife._

Why the hell I bothered was a mystery; I could feel nothing in the shoe from the very beginning. The more I thunk it, the more I saw _desperation._

“Ye don’t have it, do ye?”

_Desperation._

I slowly shook my head.

“Ye left the knife at the scene, didn’t ye?” Martin’s expression devolved into one of severity. I hadn’t seen that look since ten years old. “With yer blood on his hands… we could have passed it off as aggravated assault, a Smasher gone rogue, gone abso-fucking-lutely bonkers, perhaps a hate crime. But Raymond… if they have that fucking knife as evidence, ye’re doomed.”

Those last two words shook me to the core.

“Right, on your feet now.” I looked to Tim for support. His expression was… dead, yet alarmed.

“Sir, what are you doi-”

“Ye can’t receive treatment; ye can’t stay here - no, that’ll ruin the whole operation - SHIT, we don’t have time for this nonsense. _On your feet, NOW._ ”

The throbbing in my back got worse, but it was more like the pain was sinking straight into my soul, wherever in the hell that was.

I closed my eyes, praying for the Lord’s forgiveness, hoping he’d put aside all the times I’d said that prayer was bloody codswallop horseshit and good for nothing.

“Boss, pleas-”

“Get up. You’re leaving.”

“W-where to?”

“They’ll want answers.” He nodded. “Connor, Callum, take him out to the main road. Make him walk, or they’ll wonder about where ‘is footsteps went. Don’t call an ambulance, or they’ll trace the number. Retrace your footsteps exactly; rub them out in the dirt.”

A big guy in a red hoodie seized my arms. Connor.

A ripple of fire and shock flew through me.

“Martin?!”

“Goodbye, Raymond.” Connor supported me with a shoulder, but had a gun in his other hand pressed against my side.

All I saw as I left the warehouse for the last time was Martin’s face. Martin’s face was stone cold and scarily unmoving. No emotion, bloody _nothing_.

Martin’s face was never stone cold, and his face neither was scarily unmoving.

A girl’s sudden scream. This time, I recognized Clair.

“Ray!” She cried.

I barely had the strength to speak, and damn not near enough to shout back.

So I looked at her, pleadingly. Maybe she got the message.

“Ray!”

I got one last look at her, from below the hill; but my view of her ripped away when Connor pulled me up.

“You piece of shit.”

“Boss’ orders,” he roared.

On the other hand, Cal was silent. I stared at his face a good while, trying to read it; but he wouldn’t meet my gaze. The boy just looked apologetic about the whole damn thing.

As I trudged up the hill, there was all but peace in the leg. The pain felt like it was making my body rot, or some hot rubbish like that. I tried thinking about how to get away, how to run away from here, even with the bloody bum leg; coz no one here was gonna throw me a bone or help me out. Well, how could they even try?

On one hand, getting caught by the coppers wouldn’t be much good, coz they had my dee-en-ay and all; but there was no other choice, was there? I would damn near likely pass out, or even… die, of my bloody damn wounds.

That was the one thing I heard proper in my head, coz I was very much fading in and out of reality, if you could say that.

We were fairly far out - hell, the bloody light from the street was getting brighter, almost a little yellow. I looked back down again and noticed my vision was going a wee bit red.

Something brown popped out of nowhere. I stepped hard into it.

A fuckin’ rock.

I damn near howled. Lines appeared on the ground of dark blue and black lights. I squeezed someone’s arm. I damn near tripped and fell into Cal.

“Watch yourself, _pal_ ,” Connor sneered. His shoulder dug into my side.

The lines faded a bit. And even then, turned out ignoring the pain didn’t make it any less bloody worse. I still felt the lines come back as the ankle throbbed like that nagging Mrs. Bailey at the fucking orphanage who never stopped bitching about how shit we all treated her; it never bloody let up or give us any respite.

Respite…

Was there a way out of this? Aside from bloody dying like a sick dog in the middle of the street or getting nicked by the law or anything, anything at all? Was there a third choice, for the sake of the Lord’s bloody sanity?

Almost instinctively, I looked up at Cal, to my right. He still stared into the ground, perhaps looking at his footsteps to precisely snuffle out or erase. Could he, did he know anyone, could he help?

I stared at him again.

_Help me out, you git!_

I nearly tripped again as the rich light came to my eyes. The blue flashes got even worse. We were there.

A single black saloon rushed by. Somehow, the yellow glow made me feel a little uneasy.

“We leave him,” he stated.

“Right-o, Connor… but, y’see, Ray and I go back a long way.”

Connor raised an eyebrow nastily. A glimpse of hope lit my heart up.

_Always knew he was a nasty twat._

“I have some… private things to say to ‘im, if you don’t mind.” Cal jerked his head back to the faint twinkle of the light from the warehouse.

For the first time in my bloody life, I wanted to kiss a man.

“I’m giving you three minutes, Callum,” he roared. “And then, we go.”

“Appreciate it, lad,” Cal saluted. The taller boy sneered and walked away, rubbing out his footprints in the dirt as he strode down the hill. Jesus, we’d walked a long way.

“Cal…”

I stood slightly out of view of the passing saloons and bikes and whatnot, right behind the bench. My heart pounded.

“Mate, I’ve got you covered.” He grinned nervously.

It was like the bloody amazing, incredible old bastard read my mind.

“This is all I had saved up.” He pulled out a wad of cash, coins jingling. A twenty, a tenner, two twos and some change. Just shy of forty quid.

“Now, if you go down that way, far enough, you’ll reach the northern suburbs. Like, ten-ish k’s away,” Cal pointed over to the right, pulling off his shirt. He continued, faster, looking back at the tall figure of Connor who was now a few hundred feet away. “My uncle, he runs a clinic; it’s called Thornton Family Clinic. Find it right ‘fore it closes, at six every day - not affiliated with the Red Hand, ‘course - he’ll treat you proper.

“Next, I don’t know what ‘is bottle is exactly, but I nicked it off the Doctor one day. It might be handy - it’s… antiseptic, or whatever nonsense. Put it in your arse, your cock, whatever; you just don’t want to die, do ya?” His grin was pained.

Cal tossed me the sweaty undershirt he was wearing, putting the other one back on. It was like nothing changed. “If you’re going into a store to buy something, they won’t take you like this, a heap of hot bloody rubbish. Only one, though, so bloody keep it in your pocket or something if that’s any good.”

“Ray, if you get caught by the coppers… you’re done in,” he whispered. “You’re a goner; the public will hate you even - it’ll be bloody obvious what you did, too, they got the knife. You’ve got to _run_ , Ray, if you want to live. And Ray…”

He hissed in my ear. “Something’s not right with Martin.”

My heart almost stopped, and I was all the more aware of the seeping hurt in the back of my kidneys.

“Get into the suburbs quickly… ah, I’ve given you everything I have.” Cal unstrapped his watch and chucked it over to me. “Might as well give you this one, too. You’ll probably need it more than me, you unlucky bugger.”

I was in shock. It was his only memory of his dad… and now, it was with me.

“Cal, mate…”

“It’s nothing, bruv.”

I hugged Cal tight, holding the singlet in my hand. As I leaned forward, the ankle damn near screamed bloody murder.

“Thank you, mate, you’ve been the realest of the lads.” 

He winked. “Save me your speeches; just go, Ray. You’re gonna need all the time you can get.”

“Oi!” Connor’s shallow voice exclaimed from below.

I hurriedly let go of him, gawking at the bloody impatient red-hooded figure at the bottom of the hill. I hated him.

“I owe you my life, Cal.” I shook my head, setting foot on the pavement. “I… I guess this is goodb-”

Cal’s nervous grin disappeared; this time, he smiled much, much brighter. The streetlight had nothing on him.

“No, Ray - we’ll see each other again. I’m sure.”

I held the railing of the small bridge, putting my entire body weight on it.

I saluted. He saluted back.

“Love you, mate.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes, in spite of the bloody situation.

“Love you too, lad.”

“See you again, Ray.” With that, I heard him leave.

Then, I leaned on my right, trying not to clutch my side, and walked into the unknown.

* * *

_The Second Half: Dark and the Day_

_[ - Pit - ]_

_Saturday 22nd August 2076, 18:29._

_The day of reckoning. The lilac purple of early evening._

“Don’t, Pit; you’re only hurting yourself.” 

Her pretty face, even with the bandages, smiled at me.

I registered nothing else.

“Wh-what’re ya talking ‘bout, Lady Palutena?”

She gestured upwards.

I glanced up instinctively. But I only saw the ceiling. I realised she’d been pointing to my hair, and when I looked back at her, she stifled a giggle.

I couldn’t help smiling, even as I opened my palm, the muscles cramping. A couple brown strands. There were some other loose hairs on the lap of my shorts, too. I didn’t know how long I’d been doing it for. I was really half asleep.

“Why are you nervous, Pit?”

“I… We- uh,” I stared straight into the wall. “I… I don’t, er- I kinda, don’t know.”

“Is it about the attack?”

“...yeah.”

She sighed loudly from the bed opposite. “I understand, Pit. I didn’t expect something like this either… And I don’t understand the motivations either… but you have to be calm in a situation like this, because the answers are not always as you assume them to be.”

“I - er, I guess so.”

“And look at it this way,” she continued, “we’ve already got the police on this case. There are specially armed guards around and outside the hospital, in case this was specially motivated. There’s not much else we can do, at least until the opening ceremony is over.”

I brightened up a little. “Ye-yeah. I guess so.”

“Pit…”

“Yeah, Lady Palut-”

“Your hair.” I’d spiraled the strand around my finger. I didn’t even realise it was painful before… but it was painful. Really painful.

“Uhh… sorry, Lady Palutena.”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry, Pithead. There are other things we need to direct our concern towards. Your best friend is facing some odds tonight.” Her face fell. “I’d… I’d love to be there with him, Pit, but I can’t go.”

“Yea.” It barely rang true, but Mac might be eliminated today.

“I know he visited yesterday, but I miss Mac a lot. And I want one of us to be with him, at least. It can’t be me.” I looked up at her, half dead. “I know you haven’t left my side... Pit, my brave soldier, but I want you to be with him.”

Her lips were held in a neutral line, but she was holding back something.

“I… I can’t.” My heart suddenly ran fast, and it was like that awful awful night, oh my go-

“I’ll be alright, Pit.”

_She will. Don’t wo-no, she-_

“I-I-I,” My mouth hung open and I couldn’t spea- “I-I...I’m-”

“-scared,” she finished.

I nodded.

Her serene smile. I couldn’t do it without her.

“Pit, I’ll be fine,” she laughed. “You’ve gone for toilet breaks before down the hall, have you not?”

“Th-th-that’s diff-iff-erent!”

She jabbed me in the ribs lightly. “Whatever floats your boat, Pithead.”

“Hrmmh… I guess.”

Lady Palutena’s face became serious. “Besides… it’s not a question. It’s an order.”

“Wh-?”

“Go, Pit.” She nodded. “Go.”

My eyes glazed over. “Do I…?”

“I’m trying to sleep, can’t you see?” Her eyes closed; but right before… I could’ve sworn that one of them winked. “Stop disturbing me. Go away.”

A few minutes passed. I twirled my hair again, finding a few more loose curls.

I got closer. looked like she’d actually fallen asleep.

_Mac…_

She was so vulnerable here. So if I left, I wouldn’t be doing my job… would I? There were other people around to help her.

And if I stayed, I wouldn’t be following orders. 

_Go, Pit. Go._

I didn’t leave myself another second. I shot up from the armchair and left the room.

  
• • • • •

_[ - Little Mac - ]_

“Are you ready to go?” Jane smiled bravely at me.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied. The corner of my mouth pulled up. I wouldn’t say it was forced, but it wasn’t natural either. Jane barely responded, murmuring something under her breath.

The poor girl had been crying on-and-off, stressed out of her mind with worry the last couple days. She’d been staying with me; I’d know. In fact… Palu was fine after Thursday. She was concussed, pretty badly; but she’d never said a word about anything. We hadn’t spoken much aside from regarding the police investigation going on.

I hoped I would see her today… but she hadn’t turned up thus far. Neither had Pit. In some ways, I was thankful I hadn’t had to see her and deal with those inner conflicts firing off in my brain.

I didn’t know how to think, to be honest. I was still processing the events of a few days ago, and the feeling of numb powerlessness hadn’t left me, but there was another problem right in my face today. Pretty much… the events of today would decide the rest of my entire life.

“Fighter 47,” Jane replied, talking to the doorman.

“Fighter 49,” I added lazily.

“You two are fairly, ehh,” he drawled, sizing us up, “regularly sized - take two o’ the seats in the middle.”

The hall was large, with a big projector screen upfront. Right next to it, the warp pad. It was intended for the one hundred fighters that wouldn’t kill each other on sight. In between the aisles, there were pathways allowing fighters to approach the pad.

Jane filed in behind me to a central-ish seat. The front of the hall was mostly filled up already by the ever popular Mario group - but the one distinctly less joyful person in that particular section of the crowd was the green bean, alongside his more well-known brother looked exactly the way I felt; Luigi’s skin, the poor guy, was pale and his teeth were chattering and everything.

The man exuded anxiousness.

Mario tried to calm him down, but to no avail.

“Ye’ll be fine, sonny.” Falcon came in behind me, smacking me hard on both shoulders.

I raised a fist behind. He bumped it.

There were the sounds of more people, with a big inverted comma, filing in; chattering amongst themselves, or complaining about the smell that diffused from Wario’s asshole.

_That’s pungent, god damn._

He laughed loudly from behind me.

I didn’t really find it funny.

Incineroar and R.O.B. had made their entrances since. He growled something to R.O.B. in front of me, who beeped in response. It was hardly English and god-awfully cute but it was hard to appreciate the innocence of their exchange when there was more-or-less a chance that I could get _deported_. PERMANENTLY.

My palms began to sparkle brightly in the light of the room. Their colour was patchy and splotchy and red and white.

That light, that light was one of the things that was nice about the room. That, and the air con, but even in the ventilation and gusts of wind and cool temperature… even in the hoodie, it felt like I was beginning to sweat.

 _I was beginning to sweat_.

I glanced at the floor, bumping my knee up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down. Sudden turbulence hit me in the chest like a truck.

I really, _really_ needed to take a dump. I’d done it twice today already, but it always happened, whenever I was nervous.

I was nervous as hell.

Up and down, up and down, up and down.

The room was damn near full, and it felt like absolute hell because they were about to begin the ceremony already, from the sounds of the announcer’s booming voice coming out of the speakers, so I couldn’t go. I wouldn’t even be able to _shit_ either when I got there, I knew I had nothing to do, but I was just anxious, anxious, burning in the flames of my own fear. Despite that, my skin was already half wet from the perspiration.

I picked at my skin instinctively, and a big slice of it came right off. White flakes punctuated the side of each nail and I scratched even faster in hopes that it would speed this process up.

Peering down again, I saw my knee popping, up down, up down, up down faster and faster and faster than ever.

I breathed in deeply. Jane put a hand on my leg.

“Mac…” 

“What’s alright, homegirl?” I’d meant to say “what’s up”, but halfway through, “you alright” popped out instead.

“Breathe.” She looked at me tenderly. Her eyes were still red, and her lips cracked; and she didn’t have that same confident, motherly type of collectedness… but she was reasonably more calm than I. 

Up down up down.

“O-okay.”

Updownupdown.

“With me, c’mon.” Her grip on my shoulder was firm.

Updownupdownupdownupd-

“In…” She squeezed.

Updownupdown…

“Out…” She squeezed again.

Updown… Up, down.

“Inhale…”

Up, down. Up and down.

She said something, but my vision turned black and I tried to look at the colour of my eyelids from when they were closed. A dark, dull yellow and a green.

“Hey, Mac.” Sonic took the seat next to me, strangely uncharacteristic of him.

I exhaled heavily.

“...hey.”

Eyes opened. They scanned the crowd. Pit’s image flashed in front of me, as he waved a “hi”, sitting down wordlessly to Jane’s left. Everyone was quiet today.

R.O.B. smacked Incineroar across the head. The cat yelped.

Except those two.

“...WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, HERE ARE YOUR TOP EIGHTY-FIVE FIGHTERS FOR THIS FINAL TOURNAMENT OF SMASH! LET’S BEGIN WITH THE FABULOUS TOP FIVE!”

I tuned out.

No, this didn’t apply to me. _Ha._

A slender figure in a black suit and white mask and red gloves walked up, ever relaxed, and took his place on the warp pad. I joined in the round of applause, albeit a little… flaccidly, as he disappeared with a smile.

“Waht a fahking weehaboo,” Wario muttered. _Coming from you, you fat bastard._

Pikachu, then Wolf followed in the high-schooler’s footsteps. Ganondorf flashed onscreen for a few moments right after them.

_Cool._

_Good stuff._

_Really, really good shit._ I gritted my teeth.

The shift in the announcer’s tone perked my ears up.

“AHEM… IT SEEMS WE ARE MISSING A PARTICULAR MADAM SAMUS ARAN, SO WE’LL MOVE ON TO SIXTH TO FIFTEENTH!”

_Wait._

Wasn’t she… Palu’s opponent on the day of the battle?

I glanced up, eyebrows furrowed. I cast my gaze right briefly, and Sonic’s ears perked up too. He looked at me with the same expression I had, and we were probably thinking the same thing.

_We’re gonna need to talk about this later._

_If I get in, that is._ My eyes glazed just thinking about that.

A loud round of applause snapped me out of it as another fighter left the hall.

Then it was Mario, Peach, Daisy. Luigi’s eyes watered as his brother left. Whether it be out of pride for his brother’s accomplishments, or nervousness for being alone. Fox placed similarly, drawing some excited claps from the somewhat diminishing group of people sitting.

The Pokémon Trainer awkwardly shuffled, murmuring a couple ‘excuse me’s, as he made his way forward. Someone passed a snide comment, and the poor guy blushed.

Last in those ten fighters, a group of sword fighters of similar build but diverse hair colour came up cockily, all seemingly placing high on the list.

“...IN FIFTEENTH, PLEASE WELCOME THE GODDESS WHO ROCKED THE WORLD WITH HER BEAUTY AND POWER, PALUTENA!”

Even considering the… _mess_ , that was Round Five, she’d made it.

Radio silence.

I was proud of her for placing the highest of all of us; but it was insignificant in the situation. I smiled grimly - how ironic. 

“REGRETFULLY, LOVELY LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE CROWD TONIGHT, WE WERE UNABLE TO LOCATE FIGHTER FIFTY-FOUR, PALUTENA; REST ASSURED THAT WE WILL UPDATE YOU AS SOON AS WE CAN, BUT FOR NOW, WE WILL PROCEED!”

Seconds ticked away as I watched the numbers go from sixteen, to eighteen, to twenty-one then twenty-six, the artificial and induced urge to crap growing every minute just like my angst. Names passed through my head, in one ear and out the next. I saw and looked at and focussed more deeply on each of the curves of the stone-ish tiles of the bottom, understanding their shadows cast on each other by nature of tiny miniature insignificantly large ridges cut into their surfaces, or perhaps it wasn’t intended to be so.

Names, names, more names, and then some more names.

_Just, hold on…_

A name I recognized was read out, but I forgot what it was right after it was said. Sonic punched me casually in the shoulder.

“Good luck, Li’l, you’re gonna need it!”

With that, he left.

Looking up, the number of people or creatures I’d seen in front of the room had been cut down by between a quarter and a third in the last ten, fifteen, or perhaps twenty minutes. Luigi gasped for air as he himself was finally called up, and he promptly burst into tears.

 _Good for you, my guy._ One less spot for me; but how could I say I couldn’t relate to that?

Captain Falcon was next to go, in thirty-second.

“Bon voyage, Falc.”

“I’m sure everything will go ‘right, sonny,” he assured.

There was a knowing note in his voice. I settled in my seat a little farther back for the first time in a while.

Psychic children, robots, Pokémon, and various muscular men that looked out of place and out of touch with their ripped shirts, red caps and outlandishly long blonde hair filed out of the room. The volume of applause and cheers was notably falling each and every time another fighter left, the remaining people, animals and aliens all knowing that the fighter next to them could very well be the reason they didn’t make the cut.

The prisoner’s dilemma. The reciprocal of survivor’s guilt; the envy of the dead.

“Hey, Mac.”

“Hm?”

“Lady Palutena misses ya a lot.”

I snorted, tears coming to my eyes a bit. I missed her too. Any semblance of a relaxed feeling promptly vaporised from my skin, leaving behind a fresh prickle of sweat.

“I miss her too, Pit, I do.”

Updown, updown, updown. Jane rested a hand on my knee, as if telling me to calm down.

I slid her hand off my leg and kept bobbing it up and down.

“THIRTY-NINE - OUR VERY OWN ILLITERATE ICARUS, THE BOOKLESS ANGEL, SAINT PIT OF SKYWORLD!”

I laughed a bit at the pisstake that was Pit’s intro.

_He’ll be leaving, though._

“Bye, Mac. I believe in ya, dude!” Pit’s smile was significantly dampened, but it conveyed a sad sympathy coming from a place of love. I mirrored him, right on, as Jane put an arm around my shoulder.

Wario shouted for him to hurry up, because everyone else was waiting. Pit ran off hurriedly, giving me a cheeky salute.

“See you, Pit.”

He grinned a bit, before he was taken in light.

I glanced down. A rush of panic hit me as I saw the damage done to the nails and to the skin alongside them. The sides of the thumbs were red and one of them was bleeding. My right forefinger’s nail was now jagged and in-cut. Hair stood on end, and a wave of sweat ran through my hood.

Updownupdownupdown, oh, oh my god.

Jane, R.O.B. and Incineroar were the only faces I knew left in the big hall and all its red, orange, yellow chairs that were randomly placed… Hell, though it could seat probably three hundred regular humans, the damn thing was about half-empty by this point.

Jane squeezed my shoulder. I buried my face in my hands.

More numbers and even more names. Forty-three, forty-six, fifty, fifty-two… 

The blatantly toxic, putrid smell intensified, interrupting the feeling of hearing the thrum of my own heartbeat, from the artery _buried_ in the base of my neck. Glancing behind me, the seat was empty. Wario had decided to leave his parting gift to us in the only way he knew how.

I felt honoured.

Jane coughed and retched, and she almost missed hearing her name get called.

“Jane, Jane!”

“Huh, what?”

“You’re up, go go go!”

“Oh, re-”

“GO!!” A disgruntled Dark Pit called from two rows behind.

“Like Pit… I believe in you too, Mac,” she assured, hugging me quickly.

With that, there were three.

My heart raced as though some wackjob doctor from a hospital grabbed a bottle of adrenaline or epine-whatever, drew a big-ass dose of it using a needle and chased me down a long, long hallway in the middle of the night when the clinic was fully empty and there were no nurses or anyone around, and came up to me and stabbed me in the neck with that goddamn thing not caring whether it went into a vein, an artery or my spine, because it felt like time was both nonexistent and stretched to the point of nausea at the same time.

Sixty-two. The sound of my thumb scraping my forefinger.

Sixty-three. The sound of my foot bouncing on the floor.

Sixty-four. The sound of my heavy breathing down Incin’s neck.

Sixty-five. The sound of my palms rubbing together.

Sixty-six. The sound of my heartbeat throbbing.

Sixty-seven. The sound of my knuckles cracking.

The last twenty slots.

Updownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdown---

Sixty-eight.

R.O.B. beeped, eyes curled into a sympathetic frown, and bid Incineroar and I adieu.

“Goodbye, bud. You absolutely deserved it!” A growl of approval, and Incineroar tumbled over the seat unceremoniously, filling Jane’s space beside me.

“Thanks Incin.”

“‘Roar.” The cat extended a fist. I bumped it.

_Been doing that a lot today, have ya?_

The seats in front of us were all completely empty. R.O.B. teleported into the display screen, waving to a raving-mad crowd of people that cheered louder than the Sun shone.

Seventy. “MARTH!”

Seventy-one. “BAYONETTA…!”

Seventy-two. “LU-CA-RIO!”

_Oh, we’re cutting it close…_

Incineroar looked completely relaxed in comparison, right next to me, hands behind his head. My breaths were no longer forcedly calm or collected. They were going wild.

Updownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdown.

“Could you stop doing that?!” The high voice of a woman rang out.

“Shut up.” I called out to whoever it was.

I was about to cry.

Seventy-five.

“IN THE SEVENTY-FIFTH SLOT, WE HAVE OUR VERY OWN WRESTLING SENSATION, INCINEROAR!”

The final ten.

Incineroar grabbed me tightly, nearly crushing my bones. In retrospect, that was probably the last bit of warmth I felt, and not just the physical, temperature warmth of my particles vibrating at a significantly greater speed than previously due to the conduction of thermal energy. Him letting go, however, was when I felt most empty.

I was now pretty much alone. Facing one of the toughest times of my life.

“IS IT AN ANIMAL? OR IS IT A PLANT? IN SEVENTY-SIXTH, WE HAVE…” I didn’t need to look up to even know that that wasn’t in reference to me. The creature hopped about haphazardly without any notion of sight or sense whatsoever, hobbling towards the pad. Its tongue dangled out and almost touched me on the way forward.

I held my face in my hands and wiped it, the oil from my face and the sweat from my palms intermingling in a nasty, nauseous and temperamental mix that made me feel cramped and stifled, despite the ten metre high ceiling of the spacious room.

The heat from the hoodie stung against my skin. Another wash of anxiety rippled through my body.

“IN SEVENTY-SEVENTH PLACE, THE PINK DEMON, THE PIONEER OF THE INFAMOUS TECHNIQUE, THE SUCK AND CU- I CAN’T SAY THAT, BUT BOYS AND GIRLS, GIVE IT UP FOR OUR MAN, KIRBY!”

The spherical mammal hopped up, cute sounds bobbling from its feet as it walked.

It stopped at me for a second. I wouldn’t be surprised if it could sense feelings.

“Hiiii!”

“Heya, Kirby,” I trembled.

The ball hopped into my lap and extended its long oval arm to meet my hand. I rubbed the top of its head gently.

It nodded to me and smiled with the beautiful innocence of a child.

With that, it left. The crowd was ecstatic, in contrast to the silence of the theatre.

I wiggled my toes, then clenched them tighter and tighter and tighter. My eyes began watering completely involuntarily as I breathed in heavier and heavier, and my ears pulsed. “SEVENTY-EIGHT…” A tall blue dog walked up to the front.

“...SEVENTY-NINE…” A smaller yellow one followed it, kinda fittingly.

_I can’t go back._

Reality was sinking in.

 _I can’t, no, how the FUCK could I have let this happen?_ The plastic of the seat bit into my hand as I gripped it firmer and firmer and tighter and tighter and harder and harder and I wanted to dissolve.

_Oh my fucking god. It’s finally happening, they’re sending me home._

Updownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdownupdown-

-my ears went so hot it felt like the skin was about to come off-

-the sweat fully went through the back of the hoodie-

-out of the corner, the periphery of my hearing, number eighty-

-I cried quietly into my hands-

-the jagged cut of the nails bit into my face-

-number eighty-one-

-I saw Pit’s sad face-

-Palu’s crying eyes-

-Jane’s tearful look-

-number eighty-two-

-I would never be able to see them again-

-nor contact them-

-and this would be the end of our journey-

-Doc is dead-

-my career is over-

-there’s nothing _left_ for me-

-and there’s someone out to get the person I love-

-and I’ll never get to know she’s safe in my life ever again.

I screamed those words into my mouth.

_Fifty, sixty years of uncertainty._

Eighty-third place was called. The greenish Pokémon archer sauntered up much to the disdain of the remaining people in the hall.

The tears glazed over my vision. Those images seared, a branding iron into my head.

_Two more spots, Mac, two more spots._

2.

_Two_

_more_

_spots._

I almost laughed at my embarrassment of the situation as I felt the bitter acid of vomit into my mouth. Then the sound of people yelling in the back furiously.

“IN EIGHTY-FOURTH…” An excited cry, as two little kids scrambled up happily in their little parkas and fu-

_One_

_more_

_spot._

The announcer made his speech of all the things that represented Smash, the spirit of the sport, the fights, the battles, and even if you lost, what it meant, and the everything and the all and whatever. A woman wept.

A man roared angrily, obviously pissed off. Another person laughed, the sound both near and far, as the announcer exclaimed with exuberance. It was a haunting noise.

I didn’t realise until my ribs were hurting that it was me who was laughing.

_How ironic, us in here bawling our eyes out as the crowd cheers and screams for more…_

_They don’t know how important this is to me._

The tears came almost fully. I was terrified white.

_I wasn’t going to get in?_

Maybe it was bad, because if I got in, and I was crying and vomiting out of anxiety and everything, I would look unpresentable onstage, but what if I didn’t get in?

_If I have to go home… I’ll have to, have to see Doc…_

_Doc’s body!_

I shook my head violently until something sprained.

_No, NO! He didn’t, the medic said that, said that he died of pancreati-_

Metal swished through the air. I whipped my head around, hinging my focus on something else, and saw as a sword landed right into the back of a front row seat.

I turned to see the screen. The shots of the crowd’s tense faces waiting for the final person to be announced, shots of the Smashers who had gotten in before me; on the balcony of a large building.

Wolf laughed tauntingly at the screen, raising a glass of champagne.

_Yo- you’re horrible. I hate you._

Mario, ever the golden boy, smiled for the camera. I felt an envious rage build inside dedicated just for him. Perhaps somewhat unfairly.

_Fuck you and all you stand for._

The screen panned.

Amidst the crowd, I could spot out that iconic light blue uniform. Jane’s eyes were moist with tears.

In that one instant, even with everything about me and my life and Palutena’s assault, I felt nothing but this fiery, white hot anger, perhaps at myself or perhaps at the establishment, for making her cry, for making her feel such a deeply powerless emotion that she was breaking over and over again. She was the purest soul I knew.

Falc held her. His mouth was set in the most aggravated of frowns. Sonic was never serious, ever, and even he looked like he was about to fucking cry with those wide eyes.

But Pit…

Pit’s eyes looked straight forward, as if trying to spot something in the distance, and his face was wholly unreadable. I knew he was angsty, at least, and sad… but without any other context… his expression was the darkest I’d ever seen him have.

I was in denial.

_At least I got to see them before the verdict._

But there was no doubt in my mind that this was the end of the road. There were maybe twenty, twenty-five other people in that hall. One in twenty-five…?

_Palu, I’m so sorry I let you down._

I almost let go of the chair as a long stream of tears ebbed out of my eye.

_No. Don’t give up, Mac._

_Mac baby…_

I re-grabbed that chair as hard as I could and stopped the cursed fluid.

“ARE YOU READY???” Fans erupted with various chants. We were just as loud.

“IN EIGHTY-FIFTH PLACE.

“OUR FINAL FIGHTER.

“IN _ULTIMATE_.

“WITH TWENTY-EIGHT AND A HALF POINTS.

“IS…”

The announcer said something, so loud, and so clear, but I didn’t register what it was as the crowd immediately erupted in cheers and excitement and no, I didn’t faint or drop dead, but then it was like everything and nothing in the world all at once when the screen panned to a series of faces in the celebrators’ room.

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Who?”

Wolf raised an eyebrow in the gallery.

“LET ME REPEAT THAT…”

A word appeared onscreen.

“CORRIN!”

I read the name. A man yelled some nonsense in Japanese and smashed glass on the thick carpeted floor, livid.

Corrin.

A dark shiver went down my spine.

 _Congratulations, Corrin._ The woman who was previously crying yelled out in happiness and leapt, jumped towards the end. _Hope this does you well._

My nails dug into the skin of my palm.

Blood rushed out.

Celebrations ensued as the camera cut across the crowd. I recognised the pretty girl from after the match with Bowser.

_You didn’t make the cut, Mac._

I was not even… I was not.

_But you did good. So be grateful for the memories you made here, Mac._

That thought was like a slithering slippery snake - it was that fast a reflex it almost got, got me; I was grateful, but I couldn’t help, I couldn’t help my eyes, I was closed. I closed my eyes but sadness just continued and continued and I was drowning in my cries; at least go out with dignity, Mac… and I fucking wanted to slap myself for even, even thinking about dignity at a time like this where that was the least of my goddamn worries and aww, _GOD_ \- I didn’t deserve this, God… I worked so hard, and you know that too; why? 

_WHY?_

Is there a chance? There has to be a chance of, of, redemption; redemption in some way, what if they introduced a new round for the top few fighters who didn’t make the cut, so there was a second chance to qualify, a second round sifting through it; or what about appealing to the rules for the extra three points? Maybe that would work; I don’t want to go down like this, I can’t - and Palu’s just… just gonna, be that way? There’s no chance of it working, and what if she gets… What if this isn’t the first time it happens to her?

“HOWEVER…”

The chaos stopped for a second.

“THERE SO HAPPENS THAT A TIE FOR LAST PLACE HAS HAPPENED.”

At the time, I barely heard that. When it rang true, it didn’t register.

And when it registered, there was still no semblance of hope.

“IN TRUE FAIRNESS, IN TRUE SMASH SPIRIT… I WOULD INVITE YOU ALL TO WELCOME THE EIGHTY-SIXTH MEMBER OF THE CAST.”

I’d been unready for falling, but even more for this.

“PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER…”

“FOR-”

The Smashers in the gallery on-screen went wild and I heard nought.

I saw some figures moving, dancing on the balcony, and no one there cheering was of note; I panicked, and glanced around the real room, until I saw a ballistic Sonic screeching at the camera while Incineroar casually did a samba in the back; Falc smacked his hands on the railing so hard his hands nearly broke; Jane raised her hands up in the air; these were my friends, and they were… were they pissed or angry or something, or were,

were,

were… 

were they… 

They were celebrating.

  
• • • • •

  
  


_Wow._

_I still don’t believe it._

_Looking back on it now, getting up out of that seat… was… probably the most unique feeling I’d ever felt; it was the most empty I’d ever felt in my entire life. Because of that… I barely remembered it. But how could I forget?_

_I literally felt nothing._

_I was so numb to it all at the time that I couldn’t register the fact that the entire ordeal I went through was over; whether it be the uncertainty of those nights, staring up at the ceiling, telling myself that I was gonna be good but never really fully ever believing it; to feeling the emotion of death for about three minutes before being revived, brought back to life… I can’t believe it’s over. I really can’t believe it’s over. It doesn’t feel right to say I’m safe and I’m in Smash. The worries are done._

_It’s been half a day since that happened._

_I’m in the room with Palu right now, just writing these thoughts down on paper, trying to compose myself and y’know, assimilate back to ground level, but I suppose it’s kinda hard. Even though it’s only been maybe five or six weeks, it’s felt like half a goddamn year, and I feel so happy now that it’s over._

_Yet at the same time… I guess, I guess I’ll miss these times a little in a strange way, mainly because of the bros and bro-ettes that I would watch and cheer for with all my might when they won - since the stakes were so high - and watching this spectacle with ‘em for the first times in goddamn years. Three years is like more than a thousand days in itself… god, I feel lonely._

_And Tuesday, y’know, Tuesday I think, uh… August. 11th? 12th? Sometime, sometime like that - it doesn’t goddamn matter, regardless. A few weeks ago._

_No one can ever take that memory from me; it’s really so sacred - it’s like a million birthdays in one because I… I think, I think I truly felt romance with someone for the first time. Perhaps it wasn’t said at all… but I really, really think it’s there._

_Fuck me, dude, she’s so hot. Like, she’s really pretty. I’m looking at her right now, and even in spite of everything, she’s smiling like the sun. And I know she knows there’s a possibility someone has something personal against her, and if so… that’s dangerous. She’s so brave too._

_Palu means a lot to me. Perhaps the world. And I’m angry, furious at myself that I couldn’t protect her when it counted the most; and the fact that there’s a possibility someone or some group of people out there wants to harm her, even if it’s a slim one, makes me so territorial and aggressive. Those two words are the most accurate, clear descriptions of things I think I’ve ever assigned to events since. Maybe that makes me superficial or something; that I’m all talk and no do, and I’m typing harder and I’m feeling my skin boil just thinking the way I’m thinking._

_That feeling of not being the person you said you would be, to absolve yourself of that responsibility, that feeling of hopeless emasculation… It’s still there. I feel horrid. But it’s better than before. And I guess everyone makes mistakes. It’s a lot harder to apply that piece of advice to myself, especially when Doc’s not around to tell me that himself. I miss him every day._

_So… I’ve got to be the man he wanted me to be. I have to fulfill his role for myself._

_I’ve got- I’m going to try- no, I will be a better man to protect all of them, if need be. I don’t think it’ll be necessary in the slightest… but honestly, having the ability to do something and not needing to do it is without a doubt one hundred times better than not having the ability to do something and it being the necessary course of action to take._

_Saying that makes me feel less tense. It’s not like, y’know, that big of a statement… but I feel less bad for everything. I think I’m smiling a little. Sonic’s wondering why the hell I’m grinning like an idiot for, and frankly I don’t blame the man. Man? Man- agh, yeah, fuck it at this point._

_Getting through by the skin of my teeth._

_I’ve probably written this a million times now and I keep going on about it, but fuck it, no one’s reading this anyways; I’m gonna probably save this doc and never touch it again because I mean the only point of it was while it was being written, right? To be honest I’m still wondering what the hell was going on in my head, bringing the laptop to the hospital._

_But I got through._

_I’M IN, DUDE, I’M IN._

_Barely. VERY BARELY. I think I overuse that word because fuck, man, barely implies like bottom ten or something. Barely? I was one foot in one foot out, and it was pretty much the result of a goddamn coin toss, a fifty-fifty heads or tails y’lose you’re out, and I was so, so lucky to get in. And despite everything because I was dead for like that three minutes, I still feel a remnant, a dead remnant of sadness upon failing to get in, and all that… in some ways I still feel like I have the outcome I didn’t have._

_Sounds goddamn strange when I write it. Oh well._

_I want to be better, and I suppose now I’ve finished writing down most of my feelings, I guess I’ll probably, y’know, just… I really don’t know. The next few hours before Sunday are gonna be kinda relaxing, and I’ll just enjoy them… but the police want to talk to us tomorrow, so we’re probably going to have to face some difficult facts or something._

_As bad as this sounds, I’m not really looking forward to that. Y’know… I want to enjoy the now, so I’ll stop writing. Palu’s joking about something in the background, that lovely, lovely woman, so I’m gonna join them in the bant. I wanna be fully present in this moment._

_God, or whoever you are, if you’re watching me type this, the sun’s about to go down again. It’s a deep red that sorta fades into the yellow, and I could use any number of well place words to describe it really; but I guess it’s just really, really fucking pretty, so, uh… thanks. Genuinely, thank you, for making my world beautiful. I guess it’s the one thing I really love about life._

_The next time you hear me, I hope I’m better; I hope, no, I know this hero’s journey of mine is only starting; I’ve only summited the first mountain, especially since we need to figure this shit about Palu out before it gets any worse._

_Whatever it is…_

_I’ll adapt. I’ll get stronger. I’ll be better._

_And I swear, I swear on my goddamn life, I’ll make you proud._

_I guess I’ll sign off here._

_~Mac_

  
  


**End of Act I: Climbing the Mountain**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it gang. When I started I never thought this was gonna be anything real, big or substantial, but Act I is done. The main part of the story I came up with half a year ago is finished. We've climbed a mountain and a half.
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support!!
> 
> EDIT (1/1/2021) - Hi all, this is D4 Ghostwriter. I'm busy with some other projects at the moment so won't be uploading Vo21 for about another week or two. Thanks for understanding.


	21. Defective Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm sorry this took so long to put out, really am. Just didn't have that much inspiration for this chapter, but once I got the ball rolling it was a lot, a lot easier. I was gonna put it out on Friday but got anxious so hit it up here! Hope you enjoy it!

**Act II: Across the Valley**

**_Part I: Trees of the Haunted Forest_ **

* * *

**Volume 21 - Defective Work**

_ [ - Sonic - ] _

_ Sunday 23rd August, 12:51 _

_ The peak of the sweltering daytime _

The room was very, very hot.  _ Spicy _ hot. The cooler broke and instead all we got was this standup fan that rotated about ninety degrees.

For about half of the rotation, I just felt pain. Dry skin didn’t help. Jane in the corner barely got any of it and she looked like she was about to die. Mac looked heftily uncomfortable and sat on the edge of his seat coz was sweating heavily too.

What’s worse was the policedude at the front. The dude never stopped  _ talking. _ And it was all empty words too.

“So let’s start on the day of the incident; Wednesday 19th August. I gather you had a match later that night, and so were making your way to your match - five of the, uh, eight of you - Mac, Jane… Pit? In-cinn-ehr-aoaor, Palu-tan- am I saying any of this right?” The captain smiled sheepishly. “Sorry if I’m butchering your names.” 

“Get to the point.” I stated. Mac threw me a sideways glance.

“Excuse him, Captain; he’s been very tense about this all week,” Jane piped up.

I rolled my eyes.  _ Couldn’t she see that the dude just liked the sound of his own damn voice, for god’s sake?  _ He’d already fricking added three minutes of nonsense just screwing up our names. And it had been another fifteen minutes before then and the only thing the policedude had acknowledged is stuff we already knew. The timeline of stuff. The height and skin of the dude. The weapon. Mac and Pit chasing the dude. Basic, general details of the attack… that we all  _ knew _ .

Gahh, he just took  _ way  _ too  _ long _ .

I peered up to see Mac sighing. It was like he finally seemed to understand where I was coming from now.

“You’re right, sir,” he responded idly. I fidgeted with my fingers, and I tapped even louder, because, oh boy, was I getting impatient; why on earth was he..?

“We know ALL of this already, Cap’n,” I folded my arms, tapping my feet under the table. “What’s new? Do you have the dude, or are we better off looking for him ourselves?”

For the first time, the dude gave me a spicy look. He was obviously irritated.

“Hang on, young man.”

But so was I.

_ What’s the wait, damnit? _

“Captain, with all due respect, are there clues as to who this… individual is?” Jane asked, finally catching on. She still was sad.

“Yeah - is there really  _ nothing else? _ Fingerprint evidence, or that unique identifier chemical thingy that humans have to uh… trace them, or stuff? C’mon, you guys are detectives, you should have that, shouldn’t ya?” I prodded.

The captain gave me that same spicy look. The dude was most certainly pissed off.

“That’s DNA. And yes, we have one more important fact, young… man.” He straightened his stupid cap atop his head. “The knife has yet to be found despite scouring the area from where you, Mac, and your friend Pit in absentia, captured the man. We have searched about a fifteen-metre radius and found nothing; which is strange, considering that in the heat of the moment, it seems impossible that the suspect kept his instrument.”

“No blood at the scene or stuff?” Coz it was ridiculous, given how bad Pit beat the dude, that there was nought on the ground or a hair left over, or other stuff.

“Patience, young man. There was blood found, but the traces of DNA do not actually match anything that we have found in our database; so all this does is eliminates felons with criminal records.”

Someone smacked into the door loudly. It was a man who wore ugly, thin-rimmed glasses. He was red in the face and panicked.

“Captain, we need you, you right now,” Specs panted.

“Why, what’s the matter?” The captain was concerned.

Specs barely could speak. “While we, were working the, the case; the press, pres- somehow they got ahold of, Latrell’s death-”

“Sorry, what?”

“They want an interview, there are, are dozens out there; it’s in the newspapers and, and everything,” Specs wheezed, frantically rummaging around in his pocket. He pulled out a newspaper clipping.

Before I could see what the headline was, the captain ripped it out of Specs’ hand. He looked back at us apologetically. “I’m terribly sorry for the interruption, but there’s something I have to attend to right away; it’s absolutely urgent, as I’m sure you can imagine. I’ll keep you updated in the days to come with more details my team finds.”

“Hold on a second,  _ mi amigo _ , we’ve delayed this once,” I felt myself get  _ spicy _ mad, “and this case is important too. You can’t just leave us without any information to go on like this!”

He pretended not to hear me as a pile of papers flew off the table with the passing of the fan. “Leave out the back if you don’t want to get mobbed!” He dashed out the door, Specs on his tail. Instinctively, the door rushed up to meet me, but closed in my face. I only just barely stopped short of it.

“Not a good idea, Sonic,” L’il interrupted, pointing to the swarm of journalists outside the station. I sighed.

In retrospect, how did he get all of that out of his stupid mouth if he was  _ really _ in a rush?

“Time to go, gang,” I muttered, fuming.

The other Cap’n, the real one, looked dead ahead. He was analysing some stuff, but I didn’t know what. Meanwhile, Mac put a hand on Jane’s back, shaking his head. 

“What’s our next step?” 

“We gotta go home and figure out what to make of this mess.”

“This is one hell of a mess, L’il.” He nodded, barely giving me a look. The dude was still sweating.

And out the door we went.

The rest of the trip home was just a flying rush. L’il, though he was the cheapest of everyone here, decided to shell out on a cab to get us back to his place. It was much cooler than the sweltering hot of the police station. Or you could call it the station. There was absolutely no difference.

Mac stuck the keys in the knob and twisted, revealing Big P and Pithead in the back.

“How was it?” Palutena asked.

“There wasn’t much, P,” I replied. “You didn’t miss out on anything. The guy just rambled on and on about the things we already knew and when we were about to get somewhere, he just upped and left; he had ‘other things’ to tend to.” Big air quotation marks there.

“Why don’tcha come upstairs, Palu, and we’ll talk there,” Mac interjected.

Palutena shut the upstairs room door, leaving the others on the ground floor.

“Mac, what did you find out?”

“You wanna do the honours, Sonic?”

I explained basically everything to Big P, from the lack of fingerprint evidence or D-N-A, the knife he used being nowhere to be seen, and then that the suspect was nowhere to be found either.

“Yeah. They’ve come up with nothin’,” Mac confirmed. His back was wedged into the corner of his room, side against the wardrobe.

“That’s not good.” Palutena stared straight at the floor.

“Let’s think this through, Maccy Mac. We got no evidence except for his build, and the blood ain’t even much because it matches no-one - where did the dude go after he did the stuff?”

“Mmh… Honestly… It was a blur, y’know, and I’m sorry I can’t help any more, but it was just like, I didn’t really know. Main road, yes, but I don’t know about the direction.”

“Could the dude have left any dirt from his boots or blood or some stuff?”

“Well, it was raining, right?” Big P piped up.

“Oh, yeah. Heavy rain.” Mac’s face fell as he realised what that meant. “Ah, shit, well, that goes out the window, doesn’t it?”

I grimaced, nodding. My brain was racing.

“Well… what about the stuff, the evidence that we do have?” There was stuff we had to be missing. “The policedude - ugh, he was so useless - said stuff about the knife… The thing he used to hit you, Palutena. It wasn’t on him, when Pit kicked him into the dirt, was it?” Mac opened his mouth to speak out of the corner of my eyes, but I kept on. “There’s no way he held onto it. No way.”

“I remember… uh, seeing it with them, so he didn’t drop it while running. And he didn’t pick it up after, either, did he?”

“Why’re you asking me, Maccy Mac?” I poked.

“Damnit, you know what I mean, Maurice,” he rolled his eyes. “Yeah. But that doesn’t add up. He doesn’t have the knife; we don’t have the knife; the cops don’t have the knife. It can’t  _ still  _ be in the area, can it?” Mac’s face shadowed over. “I seriously, seriously doubt it. I mean, a knife on the ground - how has that not been reported or anything? It’s been days, dude, it’s been goddamn days.”

I bit my lip in frustration. Something had to give.

“I don’t know, L’il Mac. The best thing we can do is head to the area and check for stuff. ASAP.”

Mac rattled his head. “I… don’t like this, one bit. I’ll go with you.”

“But I’m heading now, Mac.”

P broke her silence. “Mac… I’d like you to stay.”

Mac said nought and cocked his head.

“I… I don’t think- I don’t want to talk about this to Jane, or Pit.”

“Any reason?” I poked.

“I just don’t want to,” she stated.

“I mean… as much as I hate to say this, I, uh, I see you,” Mac said, backing her up. “There’s a reason we didn’t bring Pit to the station today, y’know, he was really tense about it, and we don’t want any charges or anything for the guy - I mean, he should’ve been half-dead by the time he got up.”

“And Jane?”

“And Jane miscalled the number once, and then only called it for the ambulance instead of the cops, and ye- you get the point. She’s feeling really guilty.” He looked away and a grim smile was plastered on his face. “So I think both of us leaving, especially since the new neighbours just moved in, is kinda… obvious, isn’t it?”

Mac himself looked guilty.

“I’ll be faster alone, Maccy; it’s just a search, right?”

“Yeah, man. Tell me what you find.”

“I’ll update you when I get stuff.”

“Stay safe, Sonic,” Mac said.

“Stay safe, Sonic,” P echoed; she was still staring into the ground when I left the room.

• • • • •

_ [ - Mac - ] _

Palu turned to me once the door was firmly closed.

“You sounded like you wanted to talk.”

She laughed lightly. She was nervous.

And she never, ever showed that.

“Come over here,” I said, patting the seat beside me. She obliged, joining me in the corner as I put my arm around her; mixed feelings of love, guilt and strange happiness merging as one. My chest sunk. “I don’t have all the answers right now, Palu, and I sometimes wish I did. The unknown is pretty much, pretty much inevitable,” I continued, being conscious to keep my voice down. “I’ve been scared of, or dreaded matches before that were in the near future for me. And I still had to deal with them.

“Obviously, y’know, that’s nothing compared to what you’re dealing with right now. I get that. But regardless, we’re dealing with an inevitability we have to deal with - nailing this guy,” I whispered in her ear, gripping her shoulder firmly but not too tight. She didn’t say a word. “And the one thing that helped for me, was not running from the matches, or calling it quits, but to have someone with me, dedicated to me and whatever I needed. Y’know… they weren’t gonna fight for me directly because they couldn’t, but everything else they could do they did.” Watery images flooded the hills of my head of Doc and his passion and his advice and his words and his coaching, and yet another stab of guilt.

My heart shrieked in a passing, vanishing moment.

She was silent. I was suddenly made aware of that, and I realised I was in the middle of a sentence… and hadn’t completed it.

“Palu… this isn’t a match. I can fight alongside you. So, I guess… I guess I can be fully here for you. Like you were there for me.”

I was drowning in air, trying to think about the right words to speak… but then, there was a hard pressure building like this explosive canister of gas in my head and I just opened my mouth and they came.

“I’ll give you my all.”

She dropped her head on my shoulder. She was still silent. Other than that, the fan dully whirred in the background, an exhausted worker doing his job dutifully like a pack mule. That was the only sound in the very still and empty room, aside from the muffled, idle reverberation of chatter from downstairs.

“...I don’t know how.” Palu started out, with this air of unease in her voice; it was like holding a fishing rod in your hand and holding it upwards - you and the fishing rod both would be unsure of which direction it would dangle down in as it wobbled. “I’m… a goddess.”

She laughed humorlessly. “You hear it from me every day, but I’m serious now. I’m a goddess in my world. Here, though I’m not half as strong as I am there… I’m still a goddess. I don’t know how he got to me. Pit, one of the strongest people I know, beat him to death and he still ran away like there wasn’t a single scratch on him. He must be a god, then, and if a god is fighting us… oh, Mac… I don’t know, Mac.”

I’d scarcely noticed Palu’s head had come off my shoulder and was turned away from me. The miniscule lines of muscle in her neck trembled, each and every tiny tendon and torn cell; and my palms moistened, gripping themselves subconsciously - sandwiched between two levels of awareness. I couldn’t stop clenching, squeezing them - the scars from that yesterday didn’t go away, and the scabs were lava-scorchingly painful to even touch - hell, it was half like yesterday with the results and, and  _ everything _ .

“Mac, I’m scared,” she gasped.

She’d put the nail in the coffin. I could barely believe I was hearing this from Palu.

The room was a lot more dreadful and dark now. The already mellow conversation from downstairs diminished even further to a murmur, and even the loyal fan quietened to give a bit more emptiness. Fear pierced my heart, in one ear and out the other; hell…

I was scared too.

_ Face yo’ fears head on, Mac baby; you got it in ya, son. _

I could scarcely believe reality in itself was happening. Her touch was real but yet it was not; the prospect of having to face this guy who potentially had a vendetta against her and had the ability to take her down like that… took one of the worst beatings of his life from Pit and still survived…

I squeezed her tightly, closer to me.

Palu looked forcedly, staunchly neutral. Her eyes bulged fluid, and my fingers’ rough surface, cut up from all the scratching, softly grazed the soft flesh of her cheek, their nerves themselves being conscious to not go too hard or risk abrading her skin.

I was so tempted to say something, too.

But nothing I was gonna say would be good because… if I said something, I’d have to believe it. I’d have to believe that I was one hundred and fifty five percent going to be able to do it; I was too honest to say something I didn’t truly believe, like “we’ll get this guy for sure”. It’s not that I believed we had no chance; I still believed I had this chance, this ability to contend and deal with him, whoever he was… but even if I could say I might be able to face the guy with absolute conviction, that promise would mean nought on her end - keyword  _ might _ . Either way, we would lose on at least one end.

The thing was… we had him, too.

I let him go because I thought Pit woulda killed the guy… but screw him - I didn’t care if he lived or died. Yet, I held Pit back in that instant, instead of rationally keeping him in a hold, or something; and this menace to society was on the streets.

I bit my lip fiercely, shaking my head.

The doorbell rang.

“Mac?” She raised her head up to me.

“Yeah.” I smiled, winking. “Let’s go, girl.”

The helmeted man burst into the room, seemingly having ascended the steps silently. “C’mon down, Mac - don’t leave ‘em waitin’!”

“Arright, Falc, arright.”

As I descended the stairs, their eyes stared right into me.

“Hey! I’m Mac, nice to meetcha. You are…?” I extended a hand.  _ Forgetting their names? _

_ Good job, good job, Mac. _

The girl ignored the hand and brought me in for a hug. A tight one, too. “Byleth. Great to meet you too,” she responded, smiling as she pulled away. It was such a sanguine, clear and cheerful smile that I was honestly taken a little aback by it. One of the first good things of the day.

“And you, my man?”

“Byron. Call me B.” The guy accepted the handshake instead. He smiled, too, but of much lesser magnitude. His face was less animated; yet it was still handsome in a calm yet youthful way, and his quiet voice reflected this too.

“By the way, I’m sure you’ve already the others, but just in case…” I ran down the list of the four others, giving each a brief description; but really, they spoke for themselves. Jane was as polite, gentle and welcoming as ever; Falc had his, well, ‘Southern’ charm wherever that was for him; and of course, Palu had her confident smirk… But Pit, notably, was much more mellow than he normally was.

“Arright, well, make yourselves at home. Feel free to stay as long as you like.”

Byleth took a spot on the couch. Falc struck up a conversation with her, as natural as ever. The other two were much more low energy, but still talked intermittently, interested by the conversation and the new individual; but obviously, it was not the only thing on their minds.

Bizarrely, as soon as Pit turned on the TV, Byleth’s eyes glued into the screen, seemingly mesmerised by the presence of digital technology. To her, the only thing in her vision must’ve been the screen.

“Ho-oh my lord, what is that?”

“What? That’s a TV!” I scrunched up my face.

“A…?” She scratched her hair. “Excuse me, what?”

“A te-le-vi-sion, Byleth.”

“What does that… plate, what does it do?” 

Falc thankfully explained the entire premise and physics of the TV for me. I was exhausted; but watching her face gave me new strength. It was so amusing; it seemed like she wanted to ask questions at every turn.

Apparently, where she was from, that… that didn’t exist. She lived in what seemed to be described as the equivalent of the Middle Ages with knights, castles and mercenaries with lances, spears and swords… The entirety of it had this numbing effect on my own perception of reality; yet it was fascinating.

“The image is changing!”

“Damn right,” I gave a low chuckle. “Using one of these buttons right here, you can switch channels - those are basically the different frequencies provided by different TV stations; at least, that’s what I think happens.”

“Lord, that’s fascinating!”

The DBC icon flashed in the corner, and suddenly my eyes flashed wide open. I sat straight up, goose pimples pricking up on my cold, bare forearms - the room’s temperature plummeted. Falc took notice. I thought he did, at least.

“Mac?” Byleth’s feminine voice called.

She touched my shoulder.

“What’s up, Mac boy?” Falc seemed confused.

And a lot of things made more sense.

“C’mon, Mac!” His confusion turned to alarm.

No, in fact, they just created a whole load of unknowns.

“I  _ really  _ don’t know, Falc.”

Things just got much, much more complicated, because the broadcast displayed the Smash preliminary rerun… On the night of Wednesday the nineteenth of August.

• • • • •

_ [ - The eyes of one hundred and sixteen million viewers - ] _

_ Wednesday 19th August, 21:03 _

_ The evening of the original broadcast _

She looked so shocked on the screen; even more so than the people in the bar. But the type of shock was different - it most certainly wasn’t the excited shock that was betrayed by the exuberant roars of the gentlemen seated in the front. Perhaps it better resembled the more neutral surprise expressed by other patrons of the small business; yet, that was only scratching the surface of the emotion the young woman felt.

Her designated opponent had been mysteriously absent from the match. Sudden illness? Injury? Hell, a severe roadblock forcing her to take multiple detours to reach the site of the match, which she didn’t do in time? The young woman was smart and imaginative enough to suggest multiple theories to back this statement… yet, she thought none of this.

She was angry.

No, she was furious.

The woman’s new opponent rushed at her. Seeing the danger presented to her, she dodged the first strike - noises blared in the bar, both from speakers and from mouths. Yet, she was caught off guard by her adversary’s sudden grab.

The suit she wore protected her from directly making contact with her opponent, but she imagined the texture of his flesh all the same. Cold, threatening, and terrifying. Of course, she’d felt these exact same emotions a multitude of times prior; not that they were associated with the people around them watching, or the location of their battle, but that they were associated with her opponent.

Her rival.

Her enemy.

Her nemesis.

Her worst nightmare - that was what he was to her. These feelings of sudden dread and fear, perhaps made worse by the fact she was not expecting anything of this sort on this very night, were not seen by the numbers watching. But, they were all the more real once his skin grasped the latex of her suit - she was swung around; violently, passionately, by the villain, and she crashed into the side of the floor. The cruel audience thrived off her pain, her suffering. Barely ten seconds into the match and already such a big move was made, that, if in real life, would knock the wind out of her and impact her ribs severely enough that one or two would be undoubtedly fractured and knocked out of place.

But she was agile enough - she was one of the strongest, fittest women in the world for a reason; and that reason was necessity. She got back onto her feet, staring coldly into the eye of the enemy whilst betraying none of the inner turmoil she felt.

The woman carefully analysed their movements. The stage today was oval, but the sides were far enough apart that both of the contenders could circle each other comfortably while maintaining twelve and a quarter metres apart at the very least. The Nash equilibrium was established - the first to move would be the first punished. Hence, they moved specifically and carefully, stymieing the other’s movements with their own; neither choosing to attack or advance, but rather assess, evaluate the other subtly.

This was not their first clash.

The eyes of those in the bar, in the diners, in the living rooms in the suburban streets of Smash City, wandered around through the gleam swivelling cameras.

One of them grinned ghoulishly. He was enjoying this.

The other was not. When the camera panned around, letting the crowd see the extent of her softened injury, there was a singular scratch on the right side of her face, shallow and red, extending from the top of the cheekbone to the back of the jaw. That same jaw tensed.

She wanted to keep herself calm. She reminded herself of her tools.

First - the gun she held. Not a strong tool, but the most versatile she had; it was capable of burning, stunning or even grabbing her adversary.

Second, her boots; they contained a special fuel that allowed her to make sudden, sharp aerial movements that would otherwise defy physics.

Last - her body. She didn’t want to put her combat proficiency in front of her other options, at least until her enemy was already in a disadvantaged state… because she was afraid. Afraid, specifically, of losing control of herself.

She used the gun first, breaking the rules of the game the two contenders had, unbeknownst to the millions watching, had established silently. The full length of the chain smacked against the side of her opponent; and, for the first time, he roared in pain as sparks flew. His massive body flew back metres.

Her confidence built.

The young woman was inching forward. The second tool was utilised then and there, as she exerted inhuman force to propel her body into his, the previously still air holding her back. She thrusted her shoulder into his core. She threw him even further back.

Her arm whipped around her body in a wide arc, slashing the bright gold chain of fire against his body once more. Another roar, and the onslaught continued mercilessly for minutes as the young woman hit her stride - any semblance of shock had worn off; and he’d lost his psychological edge as an ungodly, unholy figure; and he had become like any other opponent she’d faced; she used her skill in moving precisely in the air, her years of martial arts experience, and everything else in her arsenal to relentlessly rush the enemy down until they were nothing.

More flying slams. The steel lining of the boots flickered once, twice into the enemy’s side. She landed the double kick once, twice, three times, her opponent giving less resistance each and every time the attack was landed.

The enemy was now at the edge of the stage. What seemed to be scared, even desperate screams from the crowd cheering for her nemesis assailed the woman’s eardrums like nails on the black of a chalkboard.

_ No mercy _ , she thought. Blood started trailing down the side of her face from the scratch.

The woman flicked her ring finger across the gun, withdrawing the electric whip from it. Her enemy, the beast, now lay on the ground, back turned to her. Instinctively, she knew he was rolling in - the biomechanics of his body aligned perfectly for it, and a sphere of static charge emerged from the arm. The electrons quickly caught onto the nearest positively-charged solid surface - the enemy’s leg. They creeped up through his skin like tiny, venomous electric bugs and seeped through into his muscles and nerves, causing them to seize to the point that he controlled very little to none of his own movements.

The woman’s feet moved on their own. The gaseous fuel contained in canisters on the underside of her shoes burned as she kicked up the first leg, levitating with her opponent, and rotated, smacking the other’s muscular flesh into her opponent’s side. The beast was sent flying. The blast zone’s light illuminated his body with an eerie undertone.

The bar’s occupants yelled.

Oh, they  _ yelled _ .

They screamed in mixed passions - some were thrilled, happy for the good outcome for their favourite sexy, powerful bounty hunter; others were neither thrilled nor happy, as their support was for the opposing side. Some were just there to capitalise on the yelling of the other two groups and ordered several more drinks from the young, stressed-looking bartenders, who were struggling to keep up with the vast multitude of drinks shaken, mixed and poured. The bar was heavily, heavily understaffed; that became more and more evident throughout the course of the night.

While the ruckus in the establishment fired up, it was as though no one noticed the malicious expression bore on the newcomer’s face, especially sinister as it was... in spite of losing his stock? Stock(s)?

...What on earth? Why would, or should he be remotely joyous?

He was losing! He’d lost one, then two, and was about to lose the match full stop!

The turnaround happened so quickly it was hard to follow, and it seemed as though there was no wasted movement. A grab, a strike, a throw… and suddenly it was all for show. It could be summarised in three words.

Brutal. Unexpected. Jarring.

He seemed nonchalant about it all, as though everything had been planned.

Fire spouted out of the dragon’s mouth like lava from a volcano previously thought to be dormant, and half the advantage she had was literally burnt up in flames. Incinerated. The seemingly magical force from the burst of fire shot her away from centre stage, propelling her an impossible-looking distance: the third explosion of blast zone brightness came - and it did not originate from the combatant everyone in the crowds across the city thought it would come from.

The remainder of her lead was snuffed out just as quickly. She grunted in frustration, betraying no pain, as her wily opponent refused to give her the courtesy of victory. The spewing hot balls of fire like lethal testicles of lava; the dagger-sharp, homicidal tip of the tail; the tall, menacing reddish-purple of the wings that could turn taut, tight in milliseconds… As she had her tools, he did too.

And he used them.

That was a sort of elegance that his play had - it was so dominant and flippant that it was disrespectful. It could not be described as sport, but more as game; and within mere minutes the count was even once more - yet, despite the equality of the situation, one of the fighters was noticeably more unnerved than the other.

Claws as sharp and shiny as steel raked into her shoulder, barely missing her abdomen. She sprung backwards. She avoided his advances, and as she retreated, devastating heat from afar abruptly spewed from the giant’s mouth. One of the stray spheres hit her straight in the face without mercy. It dissipated quickly in the cold air… but the damage, no matter how slight, was done.

The woman’s right eye saw colours strangely red, and it felt as though the skin on her neck and face was raw. That hot eye was a reminder - a severe reminder of the dangers of retreat.

So she went the other way. Forward.

The dragon’s tail took advantage of it and moved of its own volition, virulently snaking around her.  _ Snap.  _ She skirted around his strikes, the margin by which they missed becoming more negligible each time until she screamed. And one finally hit its mark.

_ Thud. _ Her body slammed into the ground.

No-one in the audience, the millions of faces could discern what she said; the camera was partially obscured by her opponent’s advancement - so the option of lip-reading wasn’t on the table either. Her words spoken were to herself alone.

“Shit.”

The simple word summarised everything about the moment.

But funnily, as it turned out, he’d heard too.

A dark grin spread like sickness on his face, if it could be described as a face. He floated beside her. And then, he landed on the ground softly, the light touch of his feet on the ground more ominous a noise than his extravagant roars or ear-splitting shrieks.

Venom seeped into his tail. It was now solid, sharp, and the muscle around it was ready to snap taut. The pointed tip was now sharper than any allotrope of carbon found to have existed, be it natural or engineered.

Her eyes widened. She rolled away to the very edge of the stage.

_ Checkmate. _

He lashed out, spearing her in the chest as she tried to escape the lethal attack. Her strength drained immediately.

She dropped to her knees, silent. Paralysed. She couldn’t move a single muscle - she couldn’t even wiggle her toes - she tried desperately, oh so desperately, to move, but everything else in her world stopped as the monster approached her; it didn’t even look as though words were coming out of his mouth, but they were.

“Wherever you are…

“Wherever you will be…

“I  _ will _ be there.” Ridley finished.

_ The God of Death. _

Her face tightened as it burned up. She closed her eyes, the right still tender, to minimise the impact - hell, it felt less like pain and more like an electric current frying her nerves to bits. Behind closed eyelids, her world went white.

Samus wondered if this was what it felt like to fall into the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think bahaha


	22. Unmasked I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's like deja vu for Mac all over again, isn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, gang; I hope y'all will like this one. If you're new, don't forget to leave a kudos or a review; this chap is fairly long, so hopefully makes for a good read :) We get more action from Byleth and B, here, as well as Pit! Have a good day!

**Act II: Across the Valley**

**Part I: Trees of the Haunted Forest**

**Volume 22 - Unmasked**

_[ - The omnipresence of God - ]_

_Monday 24th August 2076, 04:04_

_The heavy disquiet of the silent morning hours_

There were probably two people who were up and awake at that hour in the entire city of Dokmus; not that they chose to, of course.

The first, a fast fighter who favoured using his fists.

Mac sat on the edge of his bed, after battling insomnia for god-knows-how-long. It’d been hard enough for him to get to sleep, dancing on the edge of reality itself for about two hours; and waking up in the middle of it all rendered him unable to fall back into the abyss of ignorant bliss.

There were rings under his eyes; they were only visible in the dark, curtained room because of the bright reflection of the phone screen. He looked like a ruination, nothing like he looked a week or so prior. Stress ate at him - that was evident enough.

The second, a someone who could sprint with speed surpassing that of sound.

They were thinking about the same things the other was - however, the difference lay in the way they dealt with the swirling grey hurricane of thoughts.

The former was stressed, worried, even distracted - but in spite of this, was motivated.

The latter was focussed, energized, analytic - and because of this, was motivated.

They found similarity in that at least. Mac found similarity in the fact that both of them were awake at four in the morning; that’s what the _ONLINE_ status under his friend’s name on his phone betrayed, at least.

“Cant sleep wana tlak/?”

No response. The phone buzzed instead, an indirect refutation. Mac’s finger slid on the screen once, and it didn’t go through; so he did it a second time.

Contact.

“What’s up, L’il?”

“Mornin’, man.” The teenager barely had the strength to speak, so he kept it low. “Whaddare ya doing up so early - or so late, I dunno.”

“Got up early, couldn’t sleep, so I just started thinkin’ bout stuff, dude.”

“Fair, man, one hun’ned percent. I didn’t get the chance to ask, but what did you see yesterday?”

“Oh, that.” The ‘that’ in Sonic’s sentence was almost nonchalant. He didn’t even seem to be frazzled by the reminder about the disturbing things he saw at the scene; whether it was the fact that the gate Pit and Mac jumped over catching the guy was bent out of shape unnaturally, or how the nearby lamppost across the street from the attack had small chunks of steel stick out from it like it was poorly put together, a third grader’s science fair project.

Mac received all of his friend’s information with both apprehension and confusion - and rightfully so. What was he to make of this? Sonic had no reason to lie.

“I don’t even know what to… even goddamn make of that, Sonic,” Mac winced. Between the fatigue and everything else, it seemed the adolescent could barely accept the evidence presented as fact or reality.

“Neither do I, dude, but I found nothing else at all. It was so weird, the metal being bent out of shape in that way,” Sonic stated.

“No things? No stuff?”

“No stuff, _mi amigo_. No stuff,” he confirmed.

“Must’ve been a goddamn big magnet, huh,” Mac joked. His pulse beat right in the throbbing vein below his ear, and he hoped his friend would not hear its tense sounds.

“Hrm.” Sonic quickly remembered his conversation with Mac late last evening. “Oh wait a second, you said you had stuff to tell me in person, L’il?”

“Ehh, screw it. Last night, the TV blasted a replay of the prelims, specifically Round Five. Guess who was on.”

“Shit, L’il, I hardly know this stuff.”

Mac snorted. “Goddamn, dude, it was _fucking_ Samus. Samus Aran. We’d somehow completely forgotten everything about the match, and you know who she was facing?” Not waiting for him to reply, Mac pushed on. “Her archnemesis, Ridley, or something. He’s never been in Smash before.

“Samus was meant to battle Palu that night, Sonic,” he continued, revelling in the strange delight of having the ending to the narrative, even if it was a narrative he wished wasn’t real. “And somehow on command, to replace Palu… the tournament conveniently had Ridley on hand - even if they hadn’t ever before. That can’t be right. Something’s amiss, one hundred percent, dude - like, does that not seem, I dunno, off - at _all_ \- to you?” Mac finished.

The stars still sparkled over the tops of the block of low-rise apartments Mac lived in. Birds flew off power lines in the distance, as if frightenedly agreeing in protest to the boy’s proposition.

“It… dude…” He stopped, not knowing where he was going with the sentence. “I couldn’t tell you. What’s our next step?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I’m tired out my _mind_ , dawg.”

“Could you contact Samus or stuff? Hell, maybe she’d got something else.”

“I suppose I could, yeah. I don’t have her number, but I probably got her on some other media.”

“Get on it, Mac. This is super duper important.”

“You’re telling me that?” Mac laughed dryly. “Okay, I will… umm, and I guess that’s it, for now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything else?” Mac asked, but his friend had already hung up, impatient as always.

He sighed, punching in a few letters here and there, squinting his eyes, corneas contracting, to avoid the rush of bright light coming from the screen. _Sam_176._ She was always low-profile and had one of the most unsuspecting usernames ever, but that’s probably how she liked it. Mac typed in a message, a grim smile worn and weaved through and through on his face. He finished quickly; seemingly exhausted and over-tired.

A change of environment was welcome to the fighter. The boy, the teenager, the man; at the Goldilocks region of nineteen years of age, all of those things could still really be said to be true, but yet it felt as though none of them really applied fully. The word ‘boy’ gave connotations of a kid with those defining childlike qualities of playfulness and innocence, perhaps; a ‘teenager’ implied a geeky, uncomfortable-in-his-own-skin lad who was still concerned with girls, muscles and grades; and a ‘man’ made him seem as though he was ready for the world. He had the passion and creativity of a child, the insecurities and concerns of a teenager, and one could say the wisdom of a man; yet maturities evolved him from a boy, social confidences from an adolescent, and his inexperienced fear and trepidation he had of the world made him an unready man.

Mac sat on the rightmost end of the white leather couch, the airiness of the inside providing a bizarre sort of floaty lift to his backside - this served almost to remove any feeling there in a strange sense. He rested his back on the back of the staircase. Hard concrete. He stared out to the window that he’d just opened, letting starlight stream in - and as he became aware of this, a light breeze touched his face.

He had no idea what to do with his hands. As comical as that sentiment might have been, he fidgeted nervously in the seat as his heartbeat grew louder and louder; in fact, aside from the rustle of the branches of trees outside, that was the only sound he heard, especially as it echoed in the pit of his ears. The skin on the underside of his neck, right at the juncture between where his jaw clicked in and out of place if he were to open his mouth to its fullest, and the corner of his ear - right on the underside of his earlobe - grew hot with anxiety. Not so much a burning sensation, but an inflamed sensation; Mac was dying of angst. That same desire to use the toilet inspired in him as he sat there like that fateful day when he got in, even though he’d emptied himself twice already in the previous twelve or so hours; the toes were wiggling, clenching, clammy salty sweat building between them; the nails were being picked at, their corners jagged and whitened from the scratching… Mac couldn’t calm down.

Mac sat there for a long while, bathing in the hot fluids of angst. Namely sweat. And the room wasn’t even that hot; nor was it painfully humid - yet, his skin was slowly moistening.

Perhaps this was a punishment, he conjectured; perhaps this was a payment for everything he did wrong before. He stewed in the liquid, feeling the blunt and heavy hitting of yet another episode of invasive, intrusive thought that sought to wear him from the inside out; and it always got to the bottom of him. It never stopped at being sad. Or, merely angry. The polarising neuroticisms of these times turned his soul different, as though he was a significantly more nihilistic person altogether after the boiling pot of layered, building sentiments simmered and fired, right by the end of one of these negative episodes. Emotions.

Emotions, emotions - emotions. Fear was a big one here, obviously; anxiety, in other words. Nervousness about battles he was facing in- and outside the arena. But then there were emotions that he refused to admit even in his own sole presence; repressed to the point that they would _hopefully_ be forgotten in the happenings of his everyday life. There were so many. There were... so, so many, but the main ones that he refused to admit included loneliness.

Loneliness. Loneliness... of the _soul_ ; he longed for the girl, woman he believed could, would be his - and the stellar, perfect times they could or would have. Yet, he knew how this emotion made him appear, even to himself… especially as a man.

Lust. For the same and for others. It clashed directly with the former feeling to produce a deep, penetrating shame, their child born of illegitimacy.

Despair. By not only their confrontation, but also everything else occurring in his world.

The man’s hard exterior crumbled. He felt the moisture of a tear form on the corner of his eye, the lateral corner; it slid down the side of his face lazily, uncomfortably for the adolescent, because the liquid was sticky and smooth and, upon his cheek, sat restlessly. More brothers joined in. The boy tried to keep his cries silent - and he did so successfully, as he never really made a sound when he cried like this, alone. He prayed, hoping that he would be able to fall into the abyss of sleep; in spite of all the instability that his circumstance bred into his frame of mind, the one thing he remembered was the power of sleep as the ultimate equaliser, the resetter of feeling, mood and mind.

• • • • •

_[ - Mac - ]_

_10:43_

“Ready for your test, Mac?” Byleth taunted, waggling her eyebrows.

“Of course,” I smirked. “Let’s go.”

She took out the sword, grasping it with both hands - it was white, as though it was made of bone or something, and stretched about three feet lengthwise - the thing was _long_. It was going to be hard to get in on her… if she knew what she was doing.

I bobbled inwards, slightly, baiting her out to make a move. The sword suddenly broke into pieces. “The fu-?!” A tight sensation in my wrist, pain in my forearm, and my shoulder yanked itself out of its socket. I saw her get near in my field of vision.

I looked down. The sword… It had fractured into tiny pieces of bone, red, hot and glowing; the shards were connected by a thin rope.

The sword had actually just become a… _whip_.

“What?!” Her fist stopped inches from my face.

“Test run, Mac,” she smiled triumphantly. “I wanted this to be a fair test, so I’m showing you some of my cards early.”

“-Your sword becomes a chain? Are you serious?”

Byleth winked, retreating back to her side of the stage. “Let the lesson begin.”

I barely registered her words; they were more talked at me rather than to me, and through no fault of her own. I was _shot_ \- super exhausted - and tried to keep my mind in the game, but it was like I was forgetting my thoughts as they went on. _I need to be in and out really fast._ That was the only thing I remembered. I had to hold onto that one thing.

_I need to be in and out really fast._

_Go on, Mac; go on._

B sat in the chair; the man was seemingly impassive. Jane flashed me a thumbs-up, her voice muffled from the glass.

“Three, two, one… go!”

My body took that ‘go’ and ran with it, rushing up much closer; instinctively, my fist slammed into where she…

Was previously.

The whip sliced into my stomach, only softened by the textile of the shirt, but it stung. I bit my lip. The stinging, acid sensation forced a retreat.

I wasn’t quick enough. The white whip retracted back into the blade - it came down in a colorless flash, slashing the tip of my elbow. She backed away with that strike, as did I.

 _She’s a lot quicker than I expected, goddamn._ Byleth stared at me with wide, wide eyes from opposite. _I’m gonna have to outplay her hard to even have a_ shot _._

My feet moved on their own, propelling myself forward; but I was rushing up _defensively_ , this time. I feigned a quick, fast jab - a love tap - forwards, it barely met her face.

Byleth flinched. She brought up her sword in preparation for a counterattack.

_Read like a book._

Air _whooshed_ above my head; I didn’t know I ducked. I took it. The opportunity - the opportunity; I smacked at the bottom of her legs, tripping her.

 _One-two._ I flicked off a jab-cross her way; into her shoulder. She grunted. The additional force of the field pushed her a few feet; but the punch was underwhelming and improperly angled, and it was as though very little changed.

She staggered backwards, but she wasn’t fazed.

“Is that all you got, Mac?”

“I’m ain’t done yet, man.” I aggressively stomped the ground, imitating some of the boxers at home, and how they used their forward momentum to carry into punches, hands still up and at the ready.

She still stood a ways away. Her hand fumbled in her cape.

There was another rush of air, but not from above; I stared emptily to the side.

_Wait… wha..?_

The world spun; my knees clanged on the ceiling, with brown, black, pieces of the puzzle shooting up like fiery stars. Her figure got closer - I desperately rolled out of the way.

“Surprised, Mac?” I’d smacked the bone of my kneecap into the stage. Pain was beginning to set in.

“You aren’t - what the hell is that?” The object responsible seemed to be a long pole with a thick band of heavy metal or bone around it. “H-how many more of those tricks up your sleeve do you have?”

She pondered the question for a moment. “Mmmh… two. But I seldom bring out Aymr, so I suppose you could say one.” I groaned, and only then did I realise how out of breath I was - the mental battle of trying to fight an opponent more than three times my reach was getting to me; and I was ready to rip my hair out. I’d done barely anything in the last three exchanges and it only seemed like she had more cards to pla-

_Don’t. Get. Frustrated._

“Why don’t you get over here, Byleth?”

“I’ll take you up on that, young master Mac.” She sheathed the pole god-knows-where, sprinting forth.

_Backstep._

She accelerated, like the sword hadn’t enough reach.

_Punish._

I whipped my head to the side. I avoided the stab. My ankle pulled out of place, and I looked down to see glowing pieces of white-red bone surrounding it. “SHIT!” Dull pain seeped into my ass. She yelled out, dragging me by the feet. I clawed at her arm-

-but felt no purchase from the side of my gloves-

-and my head felt like lead being swung in a circle like that.

My ankle went numbly electric, and the way the ceiling spun like that was a clear indicator she’d thrown me far, far offstage.

“C’mon, Mac!” Pit and Jane yelled in unison. I curled up, trying to reorient myself.

Being in the air never got not scary, especially the feeling of my heart sinking and my chest caving in on it like a rock slide on a tight, claustrophobic cage; fiery flames felt the formation of my fist, power blooming in it - blossoming, exploding like a flower - and the side of the platform grew bigger.

She squinted her eye, taking out some organ or other; from my angle, I didn’t know what on goddamn Earth it was. A yellow dot expanded in my sight.

Excruciating, caving pain pierced through solid bone.

And I plunged into thick, heavy, vertical water.

Byleth’s face met mine, clearly trying to suppress a smile, as I dropped down from the metal. “How much did I do, anyways, Jane?”

She frowned. “About 23%.”

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Byleth laughed. “That’s a solid performance still, young master Mac - I admit it wasn’t a fair playing field. I had three other weapons I didn’t tell you about.”

The sternum bone where I got shot before numbly sat inside itself - my eyes burnt a little, part in pain and part in stress. _At least she’s… trying to be nice about it, I guess._ The powerlessness of the entire bout was just… annoying; humiliating; frustrating…

“Yeah; it’s fine. I’ll do better next round.” I smirked. “You wanna have a go, Jane?”

“Sure!” She smiled with a bit more of that usual spark I knew all too well.

In a second, I was on the other side of the glass, watching the two girls ready themselves for the bout. I sank into the seat comfortably, feet up on the panel. Somewhere, someone called to remind me to keep my legs a good distance from any of the controls lest either of them die mid-fight.

The idea for training came about… sort of spontaneously. Even though I was feeling a lot, a lot better than last night, I felt like I was on three percent. And not in terms of damage.

“Morning, Mac.” Palu greeted from the stairs on the right. She’d wanted to stay at mine for the time being, and I was more than fine with that.

“Morning.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, dawg, I’ve eaten. But I’ve been here for ages.”

“What do you mean?” Palu cocked her head. I explained the entire insomnia problem to her - her face growing more sympathetic throughout. “Aw…” She put a hand on my shoulder. “I understand, Mac; what would make you feel better?”

“Agh-” I stood up and stared at the vertical blinds, which showed the view out to the other side of the brick apartment complex. Beautiful day, fresh light, gorgeous view. “I dunno, going out, maybe. Talking to people - that’s always nice. Having some good food, probably.”

“I can cook you a good meal, Mac,” she said, winking sarcastically.

“I’ll take you up on that,” I said. Something to look forward to in the next few hours when I got back. Though she wasn’t the… best cook, I appreciated the gesture. I also wanted to see what she would come up with - after all, her beautiful, beautiful mind worked in the craziest of ways. 

Then, leaving the flat, I was surprised by Byleth and B - who were coincidentally heading out and invited me to join them for some training. Palu had already cast the disguise on them, so they were good to be out in public; the Hand had said he wanted them to remain ‘secret’ until their official debut in a few weeks.

Their reaction to the stage morphing was priceless - much more bewildered in comparison to the TV turning on yesterday. Byleth’s already big eyes grew to the size of the literal moon; I remembered the way her mouth gaped and hung like the opening to an undersea cavern. B had gasped, as though modern technology was horrible, heretic wizardry that went against the word of god. And as they both took their turns in the body-blunting chamber…

They both collectively spasmed again. The highlights of my day so far.

And here I was.

“Whoa, she’s pretty good,” he commented idly. _Click._ I flipped my head to Pit.

“I know, right? That’s a lot of skill she’s got there, the way she goes back and forth and all.”

“Ya don’t say,” he scoffed.

“How’s that for some pressure on you, B?” I asked.

Her impassive brother merely nodded, his facial expression not changing in the slightest. 

_Sheesh, way to put a man on the spot._ I turned back to the fight.

Byleth started as the aggressor; and Jane was on defense. The gigantic pole was brought out first - and seeing it from the side for the first time, it really, really was long; perhaps six, even six and a half feet long. One Captain Falcon, in other words.

Jane’s face flashed in shock as she narrowly avoided getting hit by the pointed staff. A gleaming orange ball of light levitated in front of her, swivelling and spinning; it let loose into her opponent, who simply swatted it away with her sword. A stray soccer ball whistled by Byleth’s ear. Overall, the fight was even. 

Byleth found trouble making progress into her territory, lacking many projectile-ranged tools - and actually, as I observed, her bow-and-arrow setup, the one that took me out a few minutes earlier, required a fair amount of startup to use.

 _Oh, so she does have weaknesses._ I shook my head, grumbling to myself. 

Jane herself wasn’t able to deal any substantial damage using those orbs; the energy she expended with each additional movement in fact seemed to be lesser than the effort she forced Byleth to use defending against it.

Her cape swung out, and in an instant I saw the sheer multitude of heavy weapons Byleth wielded; I counted at least three on her back in that instant. 

“Jesus, dawg, take a look at those!”

“Yeah, that’s quite the arsenal of weapons.”

“I know.”

Byleth turned, facing us for a brief moment; her face sported a confident smirk, her arm tense. She stabbed at the air once more with the long pole - lance? Pike? Spear? I felt my medieval weapons knowledge flooded back, remembering the bright, nostalgic and colourful detail of those fantasy books in sixth grade. 

A harsh snapping sound reverberated around the glass screen. My eyes flicked to Byleth’s position - or, well, her _former_ position.

She wasn’t there; she was all the way in front, having closed the distance, a rabid animal hungry for its prey. The bright red chain coiled tightly, a blood-gold snake…

Around Jane’s calf. She was on the ground.

The heavy-tipped spear emerged and the point gleamed. I closed my eyes. Jane’s ear-piercing shriek, and the distorted white noise of defeat.

_She’s so versatile. Jesus._

She turned back to the screen and grinned, obviously satisfied with her performance. “Undefeated in the ring. Send B on; you’ll get to watch a mirror match now, Mac!”

A switch flicked. Jane sat where B sat previously.

“Solid run, Jane. My god she’s tough.”

“Oh, absolutely. She’s a _very_ amazing athlete,” she cheered, in spite of her loss.

“How do you reckon she holds up that much weight, with those goddamn heavy weapons on her back?” I asked.

“I reckon she works out, man,” Pit came in. “How else do her back and shoulders hold up that sorta weight? Ya pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down?”

“Hrmm… I see that, I see that.”

A masculine scream brought my focus back to the stage.

It was a deadlock - whip on sword, sword on whip, and they just tired each other out, one move after the next. B valiantly fought onstage - his fighting form was so smooth. Similarly to his sister, he donned four weapons, switching between their shapes, volumes and different weights with relative elegance and ease, even compared to his sister. He certainly had more strength than she - however, his older twin was much more wild and unpredictable with her strikes; a lateral slash could turn into a parry the next second. She caught him off-guard, the sword grazing the corner of his shoulder, before shattering into pieces. The shards bit into his chest and B hurtled far from the stage. His body’s momentum carried him around like a sack of potatoes; he struggled to get direction, as though he had no sense of orientation.

Bizarrely, as he fell… it wasn’t as though he was scared of the drop, rather had no aerial awareness. He didn’t cry out; in fact, he didn’t make a single sound. The only noise was the echo of energy from the bottomless pit.

 _Still…_ The way B’s body fell through the air betrayed his inexperience with Smash. _That’s gonna be a big weakness for them later on when they do actually end up competing._

Byleth smiled, a star. Her confidence just seemed to grow and grow as she fought us… over and over again. A few rounds later, Pit took the first W against Byleth, though barely; and then Jane scored a win against him; then B won against her. From then on, the king of the hill mostly-to-always rotated… 

Until it got to me. In that scenario, the person who won previously maintained their dominant position for an additional turn. Ten bouts. Twenty bouts. Close to one and a half hours of training. And by the end of the entire goddamn session… I had yet to win a round.

Blood scorched the network of capillaries that ran under my skin both physically and metaphorically… and the frustration closed that circuit with my brain.

_Perhaps your win was a fluke, Mac. Perhaps your win was a fluke._

“Last exercise, Mac, c’mon. Don’t be a pussy, Mac.” The blood was still hot as I began my last set.

I took my position at the pullup bar, away from the others as they chattered in the conditioning room. _One. Two._ I oppressively over-gripped the pole, feeling the growing ache implode in the forearm extensor muscles that served to grab the metal. _Five. Six. Seven._ I felt my bicep slow down its contraction, as the effort became more and more sluggish with each repetition, but the anger, the vigor enveloped me. _Eleven. Twelve._ Everything in my body seared, overcooked by the intensity. I screamed and kept going.

 _Fifteen._ My legs still staying in line, trying to strain and strain, I fought to point my chin up to the top. I dropped, nearly shattering my ankle in the process.

I bobbed my head aggressively to the music blasting from my earphones. Negative thought after negative thought passed through and through, beating up and berating the version of myself that existed an hour ago, until seconds of rest cleared from the passage of time; I’d stopped bothering to count.

 _Slam-slam._ Jab-cross. The heavy bag swayed. The feet worked with each other and I was on the left of it.

 _Thud-thud-thud._ Jab-cross- _hook_. It was rote.

 _Swing the left, slide the right, move back._ I squeezed harder, pulling in my fists harder and faster each and every damn time I almost smacked myself in the face; and then it was like dancing with hands. Water, fire; earth, air; thunder, lightning; all swirled around me in a gigantic tornado that would consume, absorb entire cities without hesitation or fear of the law and all other silly human constructs like economy, occupation or family. The bag - or, its supporting chains - yelped in fear, flinching at the jab that just missed its demure unmarked face by a hair’s breadth. With its second pass, I channeled every heavy frustration, letting it out whilst maintaining this light agility, more of instinct than anything else - crushing it with a savage gut shot. The passionate body hook.

A bell rang out in my ears, only to be heard by me. The round was over.

I roared air, having finished like a coming. The violent, scarlet fury drained, leaving me with deflated passive-aggressiveness instead, as I wiped my sweat with the damp, flaccid towel.

“You alright, Mac?” 

“I’m good, homegirl,” I nodded. The lightheadedness was beginning to set in.

“You seem a little angry, are you truly?”

To be honest, I felt a little better after getting it out, and more proud of myself, more accomplished; but I could tell there was another bout of underlying fear bursting at the seams of my facade, just waiting to emerge.

So I just shrugged.

And winked.

And smiled.

"...Sure."

“Okaayyy.” Jane put a hand on my shoulder. “They’re done too - Byleth and B had no inkling as to how to do most of the exercises, anyway,” she laughed. “Let’s go.”

“I thought you had classes to take?” I narrowed my eyebrows, grabbing my things.

“Rupert hasn’t been responding to my calls or texts, and he hasn’t turned up the last few times.” Jane frowned. “I very much hope he’s alright - when I went to the restaurant a few days back, his coworkers said they hadn’t heard from him either.”

_Oh shit, that’s right! The last time I saw… him, the last time was like two weeks ago, almost. We talked for a bit about the KO punch bar that nearly killed me, and… ah. That’s when he just ran away in the dark._

“When was the last time you saw him, Jane?”

“What do you mean?” She seemed perplexed as to what I was getting at.

“Uh… after the three of us met up, errr… about, maybe,” I tutted, “two Thursdays ago; did you see him after?”

“Once, I think… Why do you ask?”

I ignored the question. “What was he like? Uhh… like, demeanor, appearance, everything that you can remember.”

“I seem to remember that he was slightly more quiet than usual,” Jane responded. “But why’s this important?”

“Talk to you later ‘bout it, if we get the chance; brain’s a little,” I swirled my finger around it. “You’re arright with it, aren’t you?”

"Yeah. It's absolutely fine with me, I get it," she smiled, imitating my finger swirl.

"Hmh, thanks," I snorted. I walked in front, leading the group out of the building.

_Something’s up with Rupert, too._

• • • • •

_13:31_

Salty air decorated the tip of my tongue as I left the building; the sun was now bare and naked in the sky, roasting the outer layers of my skin like a bag of coffee beans. It was quite a welcoming, warm sensation.

Newspapers sprawled out from the corner of the pavement. The same homeless guy with the gray cotton hood, the same one from a few days back, sat laid-back on the ground.

“Got a dolla’?” I rummaged around in my pocket. He grinned toothily as I produced a gold coin and a half. “Thank you, mate.”

“No problem, man,” I smiled back, handing him the change. Byleth and the others paused a bit up ahead, their eyes pinned on my back.

His face flashed in recognition. “Wait a sec, ahrn’t you… the fella on TV? The one who boxes?” The man imitated a jabbing motion playfully.

“Ye-yeah, that’s me, why?” _Huh? How does he… We have the-_

He giddily clasped my hand in a handshake, not noticing the looks from the rest of the group. “You’re a staah, mate, an absolute staah.” I laughed nervously. “Thanks, man, um… yeah. Have a good one. Use it well.” The man waved back at me as I trudged off, laughing to himself. The sound was hearty and wholesome.

“What was that about?” Byleth queried, curious.

“Oh… Er, nothing, um… yeah.” I nodded, reassuring myself. “Yeah.” She thought nothing of it, muttering something to her brother in the back.

 _I- The disguises… They weren’t on? This has not happened once before; and it’s not as though I’m not fine, or whatever, with it being off; no, it’s not a safety hazard for_ me _; I’m ‘Little Mac’ for god’s sake._

“Mac!” The phone’s screen was barely visible because of the glare of the sun’s light.

 _But what I don’t get… is how they could’ve been off? She doesn’t need to turn them on every morning, or something like that… maybe, maybe they wear off over time._ I swerved my head, narrowly avoiding breaking my nose on a signpost. _I don’t think I’ve ever asked her that before, did I?_

“Mac, the bus!”

“-shit, arright, I’m coming!” I punched a few words into my chat with Palu, jumping onto the public vehicle right as it started up.

_Living life on the edge, aren’t you?_

“Mac…” Jane tapped me on the shoulder. Her forehead crinkled and her eyebrows were turned laterally down. She was worried.

“Why, what’s u-” I replied, not concerned about volume. The glances of the faces of people on the bus told me why I should’ve been; but as quickly as they snapped to me, they snapped away. They muttered amongst themselves, jabbing thumbs and pointers at us… and as I followed their line of sight, I saw them staring at Pit’s back. 

Another of the elderly men grabbed the bus pole tightly, staring straight down at Byleth’s… admittedly tight shorts. I followed his gaze, too - an ant crawled down my spine, because I realised that _that_ was _not_ what he was looking at.

The white sword gleamed in the sun’s light, half out of its scabbard.

_Oh._

“Hey.” Byleth spun on her heels, looking at me with blue eyes the size of the moon. “We need to get off this at the next stop - people recognize us. You two,” I pointed at Byleth and B, “can’t be seen out in public, definitely not right now. We’d be crucified.”

For the first time that day, B expressed emotion. His eyebrows were crossed, and he wore a fiercely defensive frown.

“Wha-how do ya know that, man?” Byleth nodded, tense, agreeing with Pit’s challenge.

“The homeless guy I gave a dollar to back there.” I jerked a thumb behind. “Well, he recognized me. Those old people at the back definitely have been staring at _you_ for the last minute and a half. You have wings, for god’s sake.” He began scratching his head anxiously almost immediately.

I lived in the suburbs that were _sort of_ close to the city centre in the south, but not far from Jane’s gym in the east. My area was quite well developed, however, and there were plenty of good establishments for food and shopping malls in the close vicinity. Needless to say, time had passed since the trip to the gym, which was at a reasonably quiet ten-thirty a.m., right after the morning rush hour passed; but before the lunch period, which was smack bang in where we were now.

I saw the faces of the fifty people waiting at the bus stop from the glass doors. It could’ve been fifty hundred and it would’ve made no difference. A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach - my suspicions were right.

_Oh, god._

The mall opposite with the big colourful letters, alternating red, blue and light green _TOMORROW_ came into view. The large pole with the yellow-and-red hazard sign rotated outwards, retracting the glass pane to the side, ruffling the black bristles on the ground. The same happened to its counterpart on the left side. A hiss. 

“Go, B.”

Pit emerged first, tentatively, and for good reason. He got mobbed instantly; a group of teenagers, perhaps sixteen, seventeen begged desperately for a photo; Pit was barely older than them himself. Jane’s eyes flashed in recognition as her name was called from across the path. But most importantly of all, Byleth and B were far out of sight, having dashed off behind another building to the side.

My shin almost caved in. I looked down to see a small plump child hugging my leg.

“Widduw Mack, Widduw Mack!!”

I died. His mother came up to me, a mid-thirties blonde lady. She laughed at the scene all while gently nudging her son away from my knee.

“Sorry, ahem… Little Mac, right? He’s ecstatic to see you in person - I hope you can excuse his behaviour.”

“Oh, no - it’s absolutely fine; in fact, a pleasure. Do you- I mean, he - want an autograp- actually, if you want one too, that’s also f-fine.” I almost smacked my head at that too.

She smiled prettily. It… eerily resembled Palu’s smile - very genuine, dimples in her cheeks, I reckon what they called a Duchenne smile. The woman handed me a sheet of pad paper from her handbag.

“Widduw Mack hi.” 

“Hey buddy, how are ya?” I took the paper, signing off on it. I heard Pit shout something. 

“Hiii.” He began scratching my leg gently.

I squatted to his level, so that we were eye-to-eye. “You want this?”

The child nodded. “Something to remember me by.” I stuck the post-it note on his open hand, gently pressing it so the adhesive wouldn’t fall off.

As I’m rising up, I watch Pit, back and to the right, put his hands up. He seems uncomfortable. The number of teenagers increases.

_Perhaps winning has its downsides, Mac._

“Little Mac?”

I see the woman’s arm, outstretched, holding a second pad. The child squeals in delight. Behind both of them, Pit squeezes himself into a ball, accosted by the teenagers. They’re pulling on his wings.

The woman extends out a pad. I miss, once, because I’m watching the scene behind them unfold; when I finally grab the sheet, there are numbers for some reason on there. Pit scratches his hair, backing away nervously. “Call me,” the woman says. I stuff the pad in my pocket and walk forward, past her.

Pit is silent. He puts up an arm in protest.

“Didn’t think you’d be this much of a pussy,” one of the boys sneers accusingly.

“C’mon, Pit, show! We wanna see those abs of yours,” a girl flirts. She yanks on his feathers.

“P-please,” he murmurs. I’m almost there.

“You’re no fun,” another girl sighs passive-aggressively.

“You scared?” The big one, the same one from before pushes. “Why, don’t tell me you got nothing?”

“No, no, ya don’t g-get it.” Pit shakes his head, twirling, shaking a strand of hair between his fingers rapidly. A fan grabs my shoulder. I smack it away.

Sorry.

“You scared?” He bellows, shoving his shoulders roughly. The teenagers clamor, joining in the chants, getting closer to him. The crowd around us becomes bigger, occupying most of the foyer area outside the mall.

Pit’s eyes are tightly shut like the gates to hell and he’s squeezing himself into that same ball once again. His arms are tightly crossed over his ribcage.

I push through the girls and boys. In my periphery, a girl moves suddenly.

She’s sobbing on the ground. Her face is scratched and I realise I’m on my knees. I hear a masculine voice behind me and my face meets the earth. It’s about to become a theatre fire. She keeps crying, and I look up to find the growing crowd of fans has left a wide berth on either side of us. I don’t see the angel.

I run forwards. Pit’s not there, but the teenage boys chase in a direction. I see Jane, she’s confused. She’s paralysed. “Jane!” I call. She doesn’t respond.

That reminds me of the two I need to get home. B. Byleth. I don’t see either of them. I scoop a grey arm up. She starts to run too.

  1. Byleth. Where are they?! My phone buzzes.



I fumble for it. The teens slow down. Pit is truly gone - there’s no sign of the boy anywhere.

“Where’s Pit?!”

“Don’t ask me!!” I look straight into a camera and go blind for a second; there are dots swimming everywhere. I stumble and nearly twist my ankle. I cry out.

“Mac!”

I get back on my feet. It’s just me and Jane.

“Let’s go!”

I almost drop the phone. It’s Byleth.

“What the hell happened? I heard screaming!”

“Meet me back at ours! Get home ASAP!”

“Mac!? Don’t just lea-” I turn off the phone. We’re out on the main road now. On the sidewalk next to it.

The teens have disappeared. They’ve given up, hopefully. And the crowd is lessening. But there is still no sign of him. I need to find Pit - he’s not thinking straight. If he’s still out like this… _I know_ we must find Pit.

The two of us run together, for what feels like ages. Carparks, overpasses, condos, houses, restaurants, trucks, roads, stores,walls,mallstreessigns-AAH, it _all_ feels the SAME; it all looks the _same_ , and there is nothing here; an intersection and a lamppost, and I think of that night - it _feels_ the _same_ as that night, the way we’re running, the sinking feeling in my stomach-

Jane shouts and points. I trip on the step I don’t see.

There is pain in my leg. Jane holds my hand up, crying out in distress as it floats away. I see it before it does.

There was a feather on the ground. It was white.

But pigeons are black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two quick qs: first - is there anything I could do to improve? People have commented about my pacing (one of my weak points I find), and spacing of text, but is there anything else? Are any scenes too repetitive, like chases or battle scenes...? This would help me plan out in future what I do more or less of, so your feedback would at least in part influence what scenes I will end up writing more of.
> 
> Also, who's your favourite character in AHJ? Thanks for the feedback!!


	23. Pit's Dreams

**Act II: Across the Valley**

**Part I: Trees of the Haunted Forest**

**Volume 23 - Pit’s Dreams**

_ [ - Pit - ] _

_?? _

The dragon’s scales were purple, blue and scarlet. It thrashed about wildly… or sorta more like just its head. I tasted the same bitter saltwater that stung and bit my eye.

“Pit!”

“Kyu! This is the last one, c’mon!” I shouted.

The big lizard’s head bellowed as I fired another shot off at it. I shut my eyes so the water wouldn’t touch it. Kyu dove in front of me.  _ Foom. _ Blinding purple-and-yellow light frazzled my eyes anyway as he shot another ray.

Ducking and weaving Kyu’s bullets of light, hot balls of flame erupted from the Hewdraw’s head.

“Watch out, Pit!”

“Ya’re tellin’ me!?” I screamed at him.

The fireballs fizzed, sparking the water, cos they struck the sea - I barely could hear myself over the scene. A dangerous warmth snaked by my head.

It was close. “Oh, Pit~” the dragon sang tauntingly.

A sinking feeling.

I flinched and closed my eyes. A sound crackled and there was a sonic whoosh.

“Pit, watch out!”

I stared - the dragon’s voice suddenly dropped; cos there was nothing. Sea. From the side, I saw his gigantic snake neck turn. It got bigger in my line of sight.

It was heading straight towards me.

I felt dark, numb pain in my face. I couldn’t see anything. There was sand as I rushed into the ground - I frantically tried to move. There was a rock to my left. I scrambled to my feet and saw Kyu on the floor too. He lay face down.

“Kyu! Ya alright?!”

He rolled over, clutching his side. The dragon shrieked in frustration.

“Quickly, we gotta get up!”

My muscles ached. Panic began to set in. My hand frazzled electrically when I fired off some more shots in his general direction. It was meant to serve as cover fire, but one hit its target. An explosion sounded.

Another roar boomed from the beast’s mouth. “Unh!” My other hand yanked Kyu to his feet. “C’mon, ya can’t give up so easily, man!”

The Hewdraw swivelled around. He was moving really a lot slower.

“Gotcha, Pit!” Kyu nodded.

The dragon’s neck thrust around. Shining scales glistened in the sun. I squinted; one, two, three fell out of the sky. The others dropped well short; he hadn’t shot them fast enough.

Out of the corner of my eye, Kyu stumbled and threw himself to the left, behind a sturdy rock. It acts like a shield. Razor sharp scales adorn its surface. “Agh!”

“Kyu!”

His bruised arm - which happened to be his shooting arm - pointed to his foot. “Pit, ya gotta go,” Kyu muttered.  _ He must’ve twisted it in the fall. _

_ We aren’t gonna last for much longer. _

“Kyu, c’mon! I’ll head up close; ya provide fire! Quick, quick!” I yelled.  _ You gotta go. _ I didn’t even feel myself say it, I just… did.

“Now!!”

“Gahhh-Pit, whatever ya say!” I heard him scream. 

My legs were on fire. They felt like they were blocks of concrete sinking into quicksand, but I needed to do this. Wind bit my eyes and there was ringing in my ears.

The sound of the dragon screeching echoed over the ocean like there was no one around alive in a nine mile radius. The water flailed about like a madman. I covered my ears, but it was too late and there was no point.

Stray droplets stung a spot on my arm. I saw red.

“Over here, ya dumb dragon!”

“That’s not very nice, Pit~”

I fired off another missile; one left, one right. Kyu shouted something from behind me.  _ We’re done if we don’t make this one in. _ He dodged the first. The second made its mark. Puzzle pieces of the sea flew everywhere. I closed my eyes, shouting as loudly as I could.

“Is that all ya got!?” My throat felt hoarse and pimply.

He reared his head, ready to roar. I saw him rise as one of Kyu’s homing shots snuck around from the back.

The beast’s yellow eyes flashed in shock; black blood spattered from the wound.

A shadow grew on me.

There was no more light.

The sun was gone.

I started to dash, but realised I’d be running straight into the rocks, so I sprinted backwards; I saw - couldn’t keep my eyes off of - his dark blue scaly underbelly; as it fell, I fell back behind. There was a thump, terror, I closed my eyes.

The dragon, slumped, dead - I, vaguely, felt the feeling sand on my butt. Something felt opened, for good. Kyu limped to my side. He called for, me and Lady…

Lady, Lady Palutena.

There was blood in my  _ chest _ .

_ No. _

There was a big, big gash. It stretched, ten, or maybe twenty inches, down. My heart sank.

“Stay with me, Pit,” he whispered, frantically. “Lady Pa, lutena!!” He yelled.

_ This can’t, be it. I wasn’t destined to, die like this here. _

Kyu was there he, didn’t reply.  _ Am I gonna die?  _ My heart, beat fast. It felt, real. The pain started to seep, in and I grunted cos it hurt to even, move my hand. My neck I cocked it up-the dragon’s sharp horn it, was covered in, my

_ blood _ .

“Kyu, help,” I moaned.  _ I can’t die. _

“Hold, on.” I heard, my heart, it was weaker. “Lady, Palu, tena!!” It’s like I was, breathing sand and not air. I tried to whisper, to him to save, me.

“Pit!” I only heard him.  _ So, tired. _ I saw the sun. There were, two of them duplicated, in the sky - there were two, three of them swarming.  _ Yellow circles. _

“Pit!!” His voice dulled.

I heard a raspy sound, it came from Kyu’s, mouth. It was my, own breath.

On the next, breath I choked on it panic, set in cos the circles came, darker Kyu’s crying.

I was swal, lowed by the, ground.  _ thud.  _ I tried, to fight, I closed, my eyes, I could, see black;  _ thud _

I gasped.

My heart throbbed in my chest. I exhaled.  _ ‘Calm yourself, Pit…’ _

_ One. _ I wiped my eyes.

_ Two. _ I scratched my head.

_ Three.  _ I tried to calm my heart down.

The white wood wardrobe stared me back in the eye; I still felt the soft bouncy bed on my butt. There were the bookshelves, still with the material Lady Palutena put in. There were the two doors to the bedroom and bathroom over on the right; I was still there. The room was still there. It never was gone.

I raised two fingers to my neck and I checked my pulse.  _ I’m still alive. _ It felt weird to say that, to  _ have  _ to say that. I remember… Was it  _ dying _ ? It wasn’t painful; but it looked like it should’ve been. I was completely alo-

_ No. No I wasn’t. _

His voice screamed my name, and I rarely ever heard him scream.

_ Kyu! _

I was lucky not to die that day… but I died right  _ then _ in my sleep.

_ That’s not how it was meant to go… _

I peered down, slowly shifting the fabric away. There was a pale white mark cos the big scar down my chest refused to leave. I didn’t hate the scar being there cos it was a reminder of the times we had; me and Kyu.  _ My buddy. _ We weren’t brothers in blood, but we were really, really good friends. I guess we  _ were _ bros, like Mac would say.

I stared at the chair hard. The cushion - it was this metallic sorta grey, cos Lady Palutena loved all that really modern. The legs are wood, and the armrest is sorta there but not there because it extends upwards. It's right next to the beanbag. style stuff. The armrests themselves sorta weren’t really there cos they extended up from the base of the seat, so there were no hard corners or edges. The leg at the bottom was wooden; the grains of the wood went straight down to the floor. The beanbag was a vibrant blue next to it. In the light of the sun, the individual strands of the cloth that ran around the outside of it, the covering, became more obvious. It was sorta like a fingerprint - I recall that Lady Palutena said, before, that everyone had a unique fingerprint. No two fingers were the same.

The Palutena Bow rested in the corner, next to the two doors, along with some other stuff.  _ Lady Palutena’s got all these really cool skills, man, cos I think she built that too, like hand-crafted. _ The blades were made of bronze and gold olleys; she embedded small deep blue gemstones in it too.

A knock startled me. “Pit?” I realised I lost myself in my room cos of its detail, just trying to keep my mind off those nightmares.

“You screamed like a baby.”

_ Did I really? Oh, man… _ I sighed, grimacing.

“I- I did?”

“I’m worried about you, Pit.”

_ -Awh. What do I even say? _

“Th-thanks, I guess.”  _ Not that. _

“Is this about yesterday?”

I sank three inches into the ground, cos it suddenly came back to me just like that homing arrow did.  _ I can’t run away from it. _ The girl with the dark hair tried to grab my shirt and - I didn’t even know why I did it, but she was touching me and, and I just… I just, I dunno, cos she was on the ground and  _ I _ was the one who threw her.

_ She coulda been really hurt, Pit. _

I brushed my hand over the scar again.

_ But no-one’s meant to see that. No-one. _

Guilt slapped me hard across the face. Fear then doubled down and socked me in the gut.  _ I’m scared that if I just go out there I’ll get swarmed again. I wanna pretend like nothing’s the problem. _

“Pithead? You didn’t respond.”

_ Don’t think. _

I got up.

_ Just do _ .

I opened the door. Seeing her face gave me a pang of hope, but it was like there was more pressure than ever. The feeling was coming inside me.

“Hi.”

“Hey, how are ya?”

“Pit… I hear you sleep-talking everyday, and it’s either gibberish, or nothing good.” She sat on the chair, easing her back into it.  _ Oh no. She’s gonna ask.  _ “Are you having nightmares again?”

“N-nah, I’m not, I’m arright; why’dja ask?”

“Don’t lie to me, please, Pit?” She put an arm on my back, and it was then I realised my hand was still on my head.

“Lady Palutena…” I lowered it and glared at the pieces of hair falling out. 

“I’m begging you. I can help yo-”

“Leave me alone!” The guilt throbbed in my face.  _ Ya were angry when… Mac… yelled at her, but now that ya do it it’s fine? _

She grabbed my shoulders from behind. I hung my head.

“I understand. Don’t feel guilty.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “Ya don’t geddit.” Light burned the outside of my eye.

“If you explain it to me, we can conquer it together. Like old times.” I swore a tingle of a smile touched her cheeks. My glance confirmed it.

“Lady Palutena, ya got no idea what I feel towards the old days,” I spat bitterly.

“Why?”

“Ya know, it’s like a conflict rattling around in my head. I enjoyed the thrill of battle… but it was like I was always really close to dying and that was… scary and stuff. Some days I get nightma- I mean, dreams, of fights. Sometimes they aren’t even things that happened, or at least I don’t think so. And now it’s like, I mean-” I caught myself.  _ What are you doing? _

“Go on, Pit.”

I couldn’t move. I turned to face the sun, which ran along my skin and roasted each one of my skin pieces, skin cells, smooth lines in my hand. “Pit?” I wanted to be the block of glass separating me and the sun, to be nothing.

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it.” She left the room, a lingering hand on my shoulder.

I didn’t like talking. It was like… if I said anything, it would be  _ real _ .

That fighting would be real, and I’d already derailed everything enough. Yesterday Jane had to try and find me; and I  _ actually _ hurt someone. For no reason. I swore I’d never do that. And honestly, I can’t believe that I did that - a young, innocent teenage girl. Now she probably hates me, and every one of the members of the tournament. She probably thinks that they’re all the same; and so do her friends.  _ I did that. _ I swatted my hand away. It dawned on me that I’d touched the scar instinctively.

_ No, no- _

I grabbed the tuft of my hair and pulled it tight, closing my eyes. It was all black, and there was the drumbeat of my pulse against the pillow. Lady Palutena talked faintly in the background.

Coming so close to death and not dying that day…

_ I should’ve died. Why should I have lived? In fact, I was really, really close to death - there was blood all over my hands, my feet - all of that was coming from ME. _ Photos of dark red liquid pooling in my palms snapped back in my face.  _ The only reason I’m alive is because of Lady Palutena. _

“Are you alright?”

I rushed to the door and slammed it shut, twisting it locked.

“N-no! Not right now! I’m okay, I swear!”

_ It’s like the more I live, the more I mess up. I don’t want to face the outside world right now, or ever. _

Her light steps tracked away from the door.

_ I gotta deal with this somehow. _

_ On my own. _

It always was like that after dreams. Of fighting or of battle. I was so scared of it cos of how close it was to me - how close  _ death _ , true  _ death _ once was. Because of how many times I’d come close to it, I was immune - like fate was carrying me through until my time. But it was like a crushing weight on my back to wonder whether or not… 

_ Am I worthy of being saved? _

_ Not right now, no. _

• • • • •

_ [ - Mac - ] _

_ 14:00 _

“He doesn’t want to talk; not even to Palu.”

“I thought so,” Jane commented. She joined me in stride.

“Don’t think she’s in much state to help him out either.” I sighed, shuffling down the tessellated brick trail. Dull red, grey, dull red. “Yeah.”

“What’s gone on in here?” I had called. Byleth was standing in the middle of my living room, B behind her, and Palu on the steps; the former stared a hole in the lattermost like her eyes were drilling for oil.

The three pairs of eyes in the room snapped to mine.

“Mac, this is unbelievable,” Byleth fumed. “You said that we were protected by disguise and I find it highly unlikely that she simply ‘forgot’, leading us to this bloody mess of a situation.” B put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. She aggressively shrugged it off. “I do not understand your motives, but forgive me if I cannot trust you for this.

Palu looked into the side of the step. She must’ve wanted to be an ant or something and snuggle in one of those miniscule repeating dips like holes that were arranged in rows and columns in the carpet. “I’m sorry, Mac,” she mumbled.

“Palu?” I cocked my head. “What… are you being serious, right now?”

“No, I me-”

“She’s even admitted it. What more do you need?” Byleth prodded.

“Wait a sec; wait a sec. Hear Palu out.” I approached the swordswoman. “I understand that you’re confused, but so am I right now; and y’see that girl over there,” I pointed at Palu, “she’s my gal. She is undoubtedly the girl I trust the most in this world - she’s always got a good explanation for things. Please. Hear her out.”

Palu raised her head. The very miniscule detail dotted her face; one of a push of the cheek up and to the right. A sign of appreciation and warmth. “Thanks, Mac… but I can’t say I have much of an explanation, here.

“Simply put… I casted the disguise spell on you, like normal. These spells last about two weeks before they wear off. Since you both arrived fairly recently, I decided to renew the spell. It felt like the same. In fact, there is no way for us to check whether they work as usual, as we all see each other as the same people within this ‘bubble’.” She turned her head to Byleth. “I’m sorry, Byleth, but you’ll have to take my word for it. I understand you-”

“I don’t believe you.” Byleth stormed out of the apartment. She got the hang of combos and all already, having fired off a Key Twist into Door Open with a Loud Slam confirm.

Jane shuffled uneasily, shooting an unreturned glance at Palu.

“Apologies for my sister’s behaviour.” I shifted my head. B solemnly gripped the hilt of his sword. “She gets rather… heated,” he smiled understandingly, “and isn’t very trusting. If I may… I would ask that you talk to her later, Mac.”

“Uh… sure, dawg. Anything works,” I grimaced.

“No worries.” He was out too. With that, it was Jane, Palu and I left to twiddle our thumbs. And the worrying part aside from his disappearance was Palu being mostly non-verbal the entire time; it seemed like we’d just been getting worse and worse. For lack of a simpler metaphor, it was like being in an elevator in a skyscraper; one that went down a floor and a half every second, but suddenly in the span of three plunged a thousand storeys into the depths of hell, right to the point that the roof of the metal box would batter and smash the skull of the poor person inside to an ugly, mangled mess. In this case, those last three seconds were like last week, and the people in the elevator - the ‘elevatees’ - were us. Palu had been taking the brunt of it.

“Mac?” Jane snapped me to life. “I think this is my stop.”

“See ya, homegirl. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

After an hour more of searching, we’d given up and gone back to mine, thereby discovering that mess of a situation at home. Maurice had already been sent out to look for him, and, well… no one thought to find him at his own house. He’d taken the long route to avoid being followed home - but any reporter or journalist taking the case of him body-slamming a teenager in broad daylight would probably be determined enough to find out where he lived. When they eventually, inevitably would… They’d probably have to move.

I couldn’t bear to look at the news last night.

Two long white snakes lay flat and still on the road, straight down the middle. The bus stopped, giving me a long look at the red brick low-rise offices. My neighbourhood was as quiet as always; cars sat along the sides of both pavements - the road was wide enough for two cars to run along each lane abreast. A woman and her daughter were the sole people on the road. Two circles and a few angled lines between them denoted the bike path, and right by it was the park with the four iron-black pedestrian stanchions gatekeeping its access to the two-legged. Down the stairs, or the slope, and I would be home.

I wasn’t going home. The two females, the park and the cars became smaller and smaller as the previously inert vehicle started up once more; and even, in that, the rest of the ride folded into itself. I was alive, in my own flesh prison, but I wasn’t present; I accosted the external environment through the clear glass panes with a passive acknowledgment of its presence and existence, but without an understanding of position or purpose. Locations drew closer. The trees and buildings morphed into the black hall of a subway, intermittent flashes of the sun’s rays betraying themselves when the tunnels finished or at least paused. They took turns and every time the tunnels had their move, without fail, a clear, steel whoosh penetrated the cabin of the train. 

“Inner west four, inner west four. Bonita Collina station.” The whoosh was somehow both hollow and biting. “Bonita Collina station. Please watch the gap.”

_ That’s funny. They’ve removed the Zhichian translations for the station names, or perhaps that’s just this line… which is pretty bizarre - the Inner West Line is pretty much the newest addition. If anything, this line should have it. _ A breath of fresh air.  _ Maybe I’m just overthinking things. I think I do that a lot. _

It had been well over half an hour since I left Jane.  _ This better be worth it. I have to see this for myself. _ The Bonita Collina area was the upmarket, modern-day yuppie district that sold gluten-free bread and imported cheeses in quaint market shops. Large houses, parks, a stomping ground for the upper middle class not too far from the city. I could see why Falc liked it, though - there was a certain calm demeanor, a relaxing aroma in a way, to the area.

His modest house was as big or small as the rest on the street.

“This is where we were.”

A single sleek black hatchback zoomed past. Not unlike near my own place, the roads were wide, especially the long road that connected with another to form a T-junction. On one side was Falc’s corner house; on the other side, a few hundred metres down, a large restaurant opened up to a large grass field; and on the left, where the perpendicular road stopped, a series of small businesses.

And the alley. I retraced my steps.

_ We were… here. _ “Mac, can we try on yours?” Pit stressed. I checked my phone, seeing the entire meter full, seeing no data available. We stood in the middle of the intersection, no movements, then moved up, right about… there.

I squinted hard.

The lamppost was much, much worse than Sonic described it to be… or perhaps how I interpreted what he said. From first glance, it didn’t seem like too much was wrong, but the normally straight lamppost bulged outwards slightly, enough that it was obvious; on top of that, the entire structure swayed a few degrees to that side. In a well-developed neighbourhood like this, it was very out of place.

I walked down the alley, thrusting glances over my shoulder every now and then.  _ Still paranoid, huh. _ My pulse shot faster when I turned right.

The pipes behind the shop sagged in the middle.

I ducked under them. The fence ahead was mangled, the links bulging out like a pregnant woman’s belly.

_ These things… they’re all made of metal. Steel, probably.  _ A quick check confirmed everything. Lampposts, fence gates, and pipes were all typically made of steel.  _ Is there some sort of magnetic field being manipulated? _

_ No. That can’t be possible; or else those shophouses and their metal awnings and poles and everything would be out of whack too. It must’ve been local, like something small. Was it something that the black dude was carrying - like seriously, how else would those three specific areas be targeted by strange magnetism? _

I shot around as I heard leaves rustle.  _ You’re imagining things. _ There was nobody there.

“Grrh…” I snagged my fingers on the gate until there was pain.

_ C’mon, Mac baby. This ain’t just about yo’ focus, son - if you can only imagine one possible solution or reason fo’ somethin’ weird happenin’ up in yo’ hood, you’re thinkin’ ‘bout it wrong, kid. _

Tension knotted my gut. I didn’t want to hear his voice. He made me feel like there was something that I’d forgotten about him, something that had been missing, like a creeping, poisonous angst.

I instinctively flipped around. There was no one there.

But Doc was right, though. I needed to be more creative.

_ Maybe… as pretty as this neighbourhood is, there are some ugly bits behind. After all, this is behind the facade of the shophouses and mansions and fields, isn’t it? I mean… why would they bother to repair areas that aren’t gonna be seen? _ A pipe dripped from behind me, as if on cue.  _ That’s possible, isn’t it? _

“But the metal seems impossibly bent-”  _ Why would the guy be carrying that type of shit around, stuff that bends metal? He’s not aiming to be goddamn Magneto, is he?  _ I shook my head.  _ There’s no motive, Mac; and if there is, then you’re seriously missing it. _

I was right.

_ Hrrrh. I guess the best… and, well, only thing I can do now, though, is take some photos of this.  _ I snapped some pictures _. I dunno if they’ll be helpful in the future, but I did come all the way out here for this. _

I backed out of the alley and left. There was something that was unexplained here, and I felt like it was right under my nose, like a word or a name I was trying to recall but couldn't; it was more  _ frustrating _ than it was frightening, as if there was an orangutan tugging on my brain as though its folds were like a monkey bar set. It was irritating - an itch with no way of scratching it.

_ They call it Chinese water torture, son. You’re bein’ held down by some chains and straps; and no, it ain’t painful, no siree, but it’s constant and it drives you mad. What’s worse is if they drip it anywhere on your face; if it was nice and still it could be some sorta meditation, son, but the randomness of it would kill ya. _

I sighed.  _ Yeah, Doc.  _ His voice didn’t stop pestering me just like I imagined those drips of water would. I couldn’t keep it at an arm’s length - eyes closed or open, fingers in ears or not, it was just  _ there _ .  _ This… it’s just like that. _

And for some reason, right as I made my move to go leave, I couldn’t help but feel two eyes bearing into me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, AHJ is indefinitely postponed. Check the discord for more details.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't hesitate to let me know if there are any issues with this work! I'll be happy to improve on anything you guys say, and if you liked it, please don't forget to leave a Kudos, because that lets me know that this stuff is being read; that would mean the world to me, and honestly make this story feel all the more real. Thanks all!
> 
> Discord: https://discord.gg/aPVzn9X  
> Instagram: @d4_ghostwriter  
> New volumes every week, Friday 8-11pm EST! Thanks everyone, leave your comments below!


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